Captured
by ReluctantSlashFan
Summary: Killed by silver bullets, her body left in a parking garage, Sam and Dean go to investigate the death of a woman. The investigation leads the boys into a trap.
1. Chapter 1

**I am re-updating this story because my page breaks are gone. In fact, they are gone in a majority of my stories. It's slow work, but I'd rather fix it now than let it bug me. So, I will continue my re-updating.**

**I don't own anything remotely Supernatural wise and I'm 12000 percent sure I never will.**

_**Supernatural**_

If there was one thing Reggie Myer hated, it was being stuck in early morning traffic. She always tried to avoid it, leaving before six every morning, but it was unavoidable that morning. Her sink was clogged and she had to wait for the plumber, then she had to wait for him to look at her sink-plumber crack and all-and then she had to accept the estimate. Then Reggie listened to the guy make a promise-the one that rarely came true-that he'd be back that afternoon. She was expecting him sometime between today and next month.

She was stuck behind a gray Pontiac, the vehicle's driver trying to decide if she should wear pink lipstick or red. The light had turned green moments before, and already three cars behind Reggie had honked in anger. She also heard someone yell, through her open window, "Fucking move, damn it!"

The woman finally made a choice, applied the make-up, and sped off. Reggie pulled ahead and was stopped by the light turning red. She banged her head lightly on the steering wheel, wondering why people were so selfish.

She finally made it to work, pulling into the parking lot. The spot she normally parked in, the one that was close to the door, but not so close she parked into a handicap area, was already filled. She recognized the car almost at once.

_I hate you Kathy Nyman, _Reggie thought bitterly as she passed her spot. She kept driving, pulling into the parking garage. She hated parking in the garage, always afraid the place would collapse or she would have her car stolen. Out in the open, her desk close to a window, she could keep an eye on her car. In the garage, no such luck.

She parked by a red Corvette, one that was owned by her boss's assistant. Margie got paid more than any other assistant in the building. It wasn't because she was a good worker; it was because she did a lot of overtime. A _copious _amount of overtime.

"I hope his wife finds out," Reggie muttered shutting her car off. She got out, digging around her purse for something to eat. She pulled out a granola bar and opened it up. Nibbling on the oats and raisins, she stashed her keys in her purse and started walking toward the exit.

She was halfway there when she noticed the blue Dodge van. Her eyebrows rose in confusion, she had never seen that vehicle ever. It stopped next to her, the window rolling down.

"What can I…?" Reggie started but was cut off when a pistol poked out the window and fired at her. She took four bullets to the chest and crumpled to the ground. The granola bar fell out of her hand; her purse was still draped around her shoulder.

The Dodge took no time to peel out of the garage, leaving the woman dead on the pavement.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

**3 days later…**

Sam sat in the diner booth, his head resting in his palm, his elbow sitting on the table. He was reading a long article, absentmindedly picking at his chicken sandwich. The article just didn't make sense. He was just waiting for Dean to come back so they could discuss it.

"How riveting is that article," a familiar voice said. Sam jumped, knocking his Coke over. The brown liquid spread across the table, dripping onto the floor. "Dean, don't do that," Sam snapped pulling some napkins out of the dispenser on the table. He tossed half the pile at his brother while he started cleaning up the mess.

"Sorry," Dean said a grin on his face. He crouched down, cleaning the soda off the floor. Sam picked his glass up, and finished cleaning up the table. He threw the Coke filled napkins on his plate and watched as his brother got to his feet.

Dean threw his napkins on Sam's plate, too, and sat down across from his brother. He waved a napkin in his brother's face saying, "The waitress's name is Valerie. She was more than willing to give me her number…"

"Yeah, and what lie did you tell her to get it?" Sam asked curiously wanting to talk about the potential case, not his brother's habit of hitting on anything that walks.

"I don't lie." Dean started, but the one look from Sam made him smile and say, "I told her I was a talent scout, looking for fresh faces."

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn't push the point further. "I was reading about this woman that lives not far from here." He wasn't even sure if Dean was listening, his brother too busy flirting with the waitress-Valerie-from across the room.

"Hey, Dean," Sam muttered snapping his fingers in Dean's face.

"What," Dean snapped disgruntled. He turned his attention to Sam and the younger hunter continued. "A woman, Reggie Myer, was shot in the parking garage of her work…"

"That's sad for her family, but what does that have to do with us," Dean asked digging an ice cube out of his glass. He spun the cube between his fingers, watching the ice spin in a fast circle.

"She was shot, in the chest, by four silver bullets," Sam replied slowly looking up at his brother through his curtain of dark hair. Dean's eyebrows rose in wonder and he asked, "Where's this place?"

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

The Winchesters walked up the steps of a small, white two story. They were wearing their suits, Sam snapping at his brother to stop messing with his tie. Dean glared at Sam, but didn't say anything as a red head answered the door.

Her red-rimmed gray eyes swept passed both brothers not revealing her interest or dis-interest on her face. Dean was debating whether she was Jessica Alba or Jessica Biel hot. He was aiming for the latter when the woman opened her mouth, interrupting his thinking, and said, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm Agent Stanly, this is Agent Simmons," Sam responded. He pulled his badge out, showing the woman it. Dean did the same. The woman studied the two badges, neither Winchester putting them away until she was satisfied with their authenticity-or lack thereof.

"We're here to speak to you about your sister Reggie's death," Sam continued when Dean failed to say anything.

"Okay, come in," the woman said and stepped back to allow both Winchesters into her house. They walked through a small foyer, past her living room, into her kitchen. A set of stairs led up, but neither Dean nor Sam took much notice.

"Please, sit," the woman said. She sat directly across from them, wringing her hands; she averted her eyes, looking at the table. Dean could still see her eyes filling with tears and allowed Sam to take the lead. He just wasn't good with overly emotional people.

"Do you know why anyone would want Reggie dead, Ms. Myer?" Sam asked giving the red headed woman a sympathetic look. _The faces he can pull off would fill a book_, Dean thought holding back an eye roll.

"Call me Rachel," Reggie's sister murmured. "And n…no, everyone loved R…Reggie. She was s…so sweet and kind t…to everyone."

"How far apart were you and Reggie," Sam asked quietly.

"We were ten m…minutes apart," Rachel stammered taking a shuddering deep breath. "S…she seemed to always know w…what I was thinking."

"Was your sister, by any chance, mugged anytime before her death?" Dean chimed in. he was thinking hunters killed Reggie Myer.

"N…no."

"Of course not," he said under his breath.

"What," Rachel asked missing the comment.

"Nothing," Dean replied giving her, what he hoped, was a sympathetic smile.

"Thank you for your time," Sam said as he got to his feet, Dean copied him. Sam pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling his cell phone number on it. "You think of anything else don't hesitate to call." He handed the paper to Rachel and headed toward the door.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled and quickly followed.

Once they were outside Rachel's house Dean said, "So much for the werewolf theory."

"Do you honestly think hunters came after Reggie?"

"Yeah, I do," Dean replied opening the Impala's door. "Who else would take the time to melt silver into bullets?"

"Good point," Sam muttered getting in the car. Dean copied him, starting the car. The engine purred to life and they pulled back onto the road.

"So, you want to check out this girl's apartment next. Maybe something there could help us," Dean suggested coming to a stop at a stop sign.

"That's fine," Sam said chewing on his fingernail.

"What?" Dean questioned noticing the start of his brother's brooding face.

"It's just; this girl probably didn't have to die. Maybe it was like Gordon. Maybe these hunters are killing innocent people, figuring they're evil. You know?"

"Yeah, I know. So, where did Reggie live?"

"Midway Apartments," Sam replied referring to the news article.

"Let me guess, it's in the middle of town?"

"That's exactly where it is," Sam replied wearily.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

"Don't see why the FBI's interested in a small town murder," Glenn Andrews said as he led both Winchesters up a set of stairs.

"It just seems weird, her death," Sam replied glancing back at his brother. Dean was trying to keep up with both superintendent and his brother. Both Glenn and Sam were several inches taller than Dean and with the elevator broken there was only one way up.

"Weird how? She was shot, it's not like she was eaten by termites or something," Glenn said slowly, finally coming to a stop on the fourth floor. He led them down a hallway, right to apartment 4G.

"She lived here," the oldest man said unlocking the door. He allowed both Winchesters into the place and continued, "Always paid her rent on time, never had one complaint made against her." Glenn sniffed, wiping his slowly tearing eyes with his sleeve. "I'm going to miss her."

"Everyone seemed to have loved this girl," Dean commented looking into the older guy's eyes.

"Everyone did," Glenn muttered. "Be sure to lock up when you're done." The older guy walked away, leaving the Winchesters alone to continue their investigation.

Both brothers walked into the apartment, getting their first glimpse at Reggie Myer's living quarters. Her apartment was small, her kitchen overlapping into her living room. She had a bookshelf full of books: from Stephen King to V.C. Andrews.

"Indecisive much," Dean muttered. Sam thought for a moment that Dean was talking about the books; he was surprised his brother even knew who V.C. Andrews was. But when he turned around he found his brother looking at Reggie's movie collection.

"We aren't here to look at her DVD collection," Sam hissed heading down the hallway. He pushed open Reggie's slightly ajar bedroom door and walked in. Her bed was unmade, her blankets in a heap in the middle of the bed.

Her vanity table had books on it instead of the normal make-up. Her dresser was also piled with books, along with her nightstand. Sam was beginning to like Reggie Myer more and more.

He walked out of her room, heading towards her bathroom. He flipped the light on, noting the sky blue paint -_so glad Dean cannot read minds_. Sam walked around the room, ignoring his reflection in the mirror as he passed it. He stopped at the bathtub, finding nothing, and was about to walk out of the room when he noticed the thing in the drain.

Kneeling down, he pulled out his pen and started digging around. He pulled the pen out, an oozing strip of skin sticking to it.

"Dean," Sam called getting to his feet. His brother was at his side in seconds; his speed had nothing on vampires when Sam's voice rose above normal levels.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked looking around warily, weapon at the ready.

"This," Sam replied showing Dean the skin on his pen.

"What the hell," Dean muttered studying the skin closely. "This case just got weirder."

Sam nodded in agreement. He wrapped the skin in a piece of toilet paper, pen and all, and both brothers left the apartment.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

"_A shape-shifter_," Bobby questioned over the phone.

"Yeah, a shape-shifter," Dean replied looking at the puke induced skin sample sitting on the table.

"_Are you sure?"_

"We've got the skin sample to prove it. We figured Reggie was killed by freaks, but apparently she was the freak."

"_Was there any criminal activity in the town before Reggie died_?" Bobby asked. Dean turned to Sam and said, "Was there any crimes in this town before Reggie died?"

Sam had been pursuing everything on Reggie Myer and the town, hoping to come up with a timeline from when she was herself and when she ended up switched with the shifter. Sam looked up at Dean and shook his head, "There was no huge crime at all. Other than someone J-walking."

"Unless this shape shifter had a motive to just piss people off by walking in front of them while they drove, then no," Dean replied slowly. He rubbed the back of his neck, at a loss to what was going on.

"_Maybe this shifter was biding its time, trying to figure out when to strike_," Bobby suggested. Dean could almost see the older hunter rub his eyes with his hand.

"Maybe," Dean muttered.

"_Be careful boys, and call me if you need anything_."

"Okay, bye." Dean hung up tossing his phone onto his bed. He ran a hand through his hair and turned back to his brother. "Are you sure there were no crimes at all?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sam muttered closing his computer with a snap. He stood up, stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders popped. He walked across the room, settling on his bed.

"What kind of shape shifter kills a girl just to take her life? I mean the one we fought in St. Louis wanted to murder. The one in Milwaukee wanted money. This just doesn't make sense." Dean sat on his bed putting his face in his hands. After a minute, he looked up to see his brother shrug and bite his lip.

"Maybe we could talk to the sister, again. Maybe she knows something," Dean suggested wishing there was more he could do.

"What if she doesn't…?" Sam said avoiding his brother's eyes.

"Then we would be back to square one." Dean replied and then added, "Not that talking to the sister would even remotely move us from square one." He let out a sigh of frustration and lay back on his bed, "Every shape shifter we've come across, everyone, has had an evil, human motive. Everyone. So this one had to of had one, too, right?"

"Maybe," Sam said skeptically.

"Are you honestly skeptical about this case?" Dean asked turning to look at his brother.

"What do you want me to say, Dean? That I don't think this shape shifter was evil, that I don't exactly believe everything we come across is evil…"

"You don't think its evil? Sammy, it could have possibly killed a woman just to take her life. Don't tell me that's not an evil motive."

"Maybe there was another reason," Sam pressed trying to flash Dean the puppy dog look. Dean jumped to his feet, grabbing his jacket. "Where are you going," Sam asked abruptly.

"Out, I just need to clear my head," Dean said and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Sam watched Dean backup out of the parking space and speed away from the motel. He had a feeling his brother was going to a bar-_more than a feeling, you freaking know_, a small voice said in the back of his head.

"He gets drunk I am not feeling sorry for him," Sam muttered shoving his hands in his pockets. He started pacing, something about the case not settling with him. _Why would a shape shifter kill a girl just to become her? It doesn't make sense._ Sam checked his watch, noting it was too early for Reggie's sister to have gone to bed. Grabbing his jacket, glad it was the middle of the spring and not winter, he left the motel. He decided not to leave Dean a note, if his brother got worried he could call.

Sam began the long walk to Rachel Myer's house. He wasn't sure if the woman would be home on a Friday, but was banking on her being there if her sister-_potentially not her sister_-had just died.

He stuffed his hands in his pocket, letting his mind wander. He went back to their first meeting with Gordon. He was killing those vampires without a second thought if they were innocent or not. If it wasn't for him and Dean-his brother taking some time to convince-Lenore would have been another dead innocent vampire. And now they may be dealing with another case like that. Not all shape shifters were evil, they couldn't be.

He was brought back to reality when he noticed a blue van drive past him. He watched it cautiously, not liking the vibes that rolled off of it. That was all he needed, a couple of guys jumping out of the van and attacking him. The van disappeared around the corner, the taillights slowly fading from sight.

Taking a deep breath, chastising himself for being so paranoid, he kept walking. He turned the exact corner the van did, Rachel Myer's house a good fifteen feet away, and was suddenly blinded by a pair of headlights flicking on.

"Ah," he hissed trying to shield his eyes. It wasn't helping in the slightest, the light still blinding him. Then he was blindsided, someone weighing a good fifty or sixty pounds more than he did, slamming into him. He fell to the ground, his elbow slamming into the sidewalk. His arm instantly went numb.

He was pulled to his feet, his assailant pulling his left arm behind his back. He kicked him in the back of the legs, bringing Sam to his knees. The younger hunter tried to swat the guy with his other arm, but it was still numb. The guy chuckled darkly, pushing Sam into the ground.

Sam grunted in pain, trying to get up. A knee was pressed into his back, his other arm pulled back to meet his left. A thing of rope was tied tightly around his wrists, cutting off his circulation almost instantly. Before the guy pulled him to his feet, he slammed the younger Winchester into the ground. The air was knocked out of Sam in one swift whoosh.

"Get him in the van," a feminine voice said. The guy manhandled Sam to the van, pushing him through the door. Before his eyesight could get used to the now darkened area, he felt a cloth pressed to his face.

The sweet smell of chloroform tried to push its way to his lungs, but Sam refused to breath. He knew he couldn't keep that up, and when someone slammed their fist into his stomach he was forced to take an involuntary breath. His head started to spin, the van getting hazier and hazier, and then everything went black.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Contrary to what Sam thought, Dean did not go to the bar. He just drove to the gas station to pick up some sandwiches, chips, beer, and soda for dinner. He wasn't sure why Sam's suggestion bothered him so much, it wasn't like they never came across an un-evil, evil thing before. Lenore's vampire pack wasn't evil and most of their kind was evil.

_Of course, who's to say some of those vampires weren't evil_, Dean thought grabbing a six pack of 7Up from the fridge. He closed the door just as the lights in the building went off. Raising his eyebrows, Dean looked around. The 7Up was cold against his hand, but he ignored it. He closed his eyes, listening to any sounds he might have missed. All was quiet, but Dean didn't trust it at all.

He set the 7Up on one of the selves, taking his gun out of his coat pocket. He started to head toward the front, but stopped when he heard a squeak of a shoe coming from behind him. Dean spun around, slamming his fist into the person's face.

"Ow," a familiar voice said. It was the clerk, the man having greeted him when he walked in.

"Sorry," Dean muttered quickly stashing his gun in his pocket before the owner saw it.

"I was just going to check the fuse box," the clerk replied pushing past Dean. The hunter made to turn around, but froze when he heard a gunshot ring through the station. There was a gasp of pain and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor.

Dean rushed to the clerk's side. He crouched down next to the man, pressing his fingertips to his neck. The guy was dead. Dean jumped to his feet, straining his eyes to see who had shot the man. His gun was in his hands again, still not seeing anything.

Another shot went off, missing his ear by inches. He dropped to the ground, glancing back and forth for the gunman (_or woman_, Dean added as an afterthought. _Maybe one of those women I left tracked my ass down_).

He listened closely, but the station could have been empty for all Dean knew. He crawled toward the edge of the shelves, stopping a few inches from the dead clerk. He looked around the corner and quickly pulled his head back as another gunshot went off.

Breathing heavily, wondering if the gunman had night vision goggles on or a heat sensing scope on the gun. _Who in their right mind would go to the trouble of trying to kill me_, Dean thought his mind immediately going to Henrickson. _Suspect number one_.

"If I wanted to kill you, Dean, you'd be dead right now," a girl's voice said and he heard her put her gun down on the counter. "Why don't you come out so we can chat?"

"I'd much rather sit, thanks," Dean called back still wondering if one of his flings had claimed revenge or something. With the Winchester luck the way it was, it was a possibility.

"Get up or I make a call to an associate of mine. He's ready to kill Sammy in a millisecond." That got Dean. He stood up quickly, stepping over the dead clerk to get a better look at her.

She was standing in the shadows, her hands clasped behind her back. "I'd kick your gun over here if I were you," she informed him sounding about as casual as if they were discussing the weather. Taking a deep breath-knowing Sam's life hung in the balance-he dropped his gun to the floor and kicked it over to the girl.

"Nice," she commented picking his Colt up. She stashed it next to her own weapon and smiled his way.

"You hurt Sam in any way…" Dean started the words dripping like venom from his lips.

"Don't worry, he's fine," the girl said. "So, Dean Winchester. I've heard a lot about you. A whole lot."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep. Your mother died when you were four, Dad died a few months ago. Like I said 'a whole lot'." Dean was taken by surprise. He didn't like when complete strangers talked about his parents, especially ones who threatened his little brother.

"You stalk people, is that it?"

"Not really," the girl said softly. "I just listen to people when they talk."

"Uh huh, do you now."

"Yep, my ears are the best in the hunting community. Better than yours." And before Dean could really establish what she said, he felt a cloth cover his mouth and nose. He tried to fight, but the sweet smell made his limbs immediately turn to jell-o. He fought to keep from breathing, but someone slammed their fists into his back and he took a breath. Jell-o limbs aside, the girl became just another shadow and he slipped into unwanted unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Still don't own them…**

_**Supernatural**_

Cold earth beneath his body. That was the first thing Sam was aware of when he came too. The next was the nausea rolling through his stomach. He opened his eyes to see a canopy of trees looming over him, the moon obscured by their branches. As a second wave of nausea hit, his mind wandered back to how he had gotten there.

_Dean and I had had an argument, or more like a disagreement, about Reggie Myer-possibly an evil shape shifter. He left to go somewhere-probably a bar-and I decided to go talk to Reggie's sister Rachel. While walking a blue van drove past me… The blue van._ The rest of the night's events came flooding back and Sam sat up too quickly.

He was unable to hold his nausea at bay, his breakfast and lunch making the second appearance he did not want to see. When his stomach was empty, he wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve and looked around.

He was, in fact, in a forest. _Wow, Sammy, Stanford has really expanded your intelligence_, a sarcastic voice, sounding exactly like Dean's, snapped back. Just the thought of Dean made Sam wish his brother were there. A small groan snapped Sam out of his thoughts. His eyes swept across the forest floor and landed on a figure lying a few feet from him.

"Hello," he said his senses on alert.

"Sam," a familiar voice responded.

"Dean?" _There is no way my psychic powers are that good_, he thought as he slowly crawled over to his brother. By using the light from the moon, or the small sliver supplied by the branches, Sam was able to see his brother's face.

His brother's eyes were opened but slightly out of focus. He was breathing through his nose, Sam knowing chloroform (and he could only figure that was the only way his brother got there without much of a fight) can really screw with your stomach. _Not to mention it can cause liver damage, kidney damage, and death if breathed in too much_, his mind supplied making him curse his habit of taking in every single piece of information he came across.

"Hey, are you okay," Sam asked his hand hovering over his brother's hair.

"I think I'm gonna…" Dean didn't finish his sentence. His face turned briefly green and Sam quickly responded. He turned his brother onto his side and listened to the splatter of Dean's stomach contents landing on the forest floor. He rubbed slow circle into his brother's back, mumbling unintelligible words of comfort. When nothing but dry heaves wracked through his brother's body, Sam pulled him against his chest.

They sat like that for a moment or two, Dean slowly getting his breathing back under control. The older Winchester finally pulled away from his brother, his eyes sweeping across the forest just as Sam's did.

"Just what we need, an unplanned camping trip," Dean muttered dragging himself to his feet. He swayed dangerously and dropped back to the ground with an audible '_Oof._'

"I don't think standing is the best idea," an amused, female voice said. Both brothers whirled around, their eyes landing on a girl standing a few feet away from them. Dean attempted to pull his gun out of his pocket but found nothing.

The girl chuckled, waving a silver gun at them. "Looking for this," she asked as she stashed it in her own coat. Dean tried to jump up and attack her, but Sam grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the ground. "Who are you?"

"My name is unimportant," she replied crossing her arms.

"Then may I call you Bitch," Dean asked darkly. Sam could just make out the Winchester glare on his face.

"That hurt deep, Dean," she said holding her heart in a mock distress.

"I'll make you hurt deep," Dean muttered.

"As much as this conversation has intrigued me, I have to go." The girl made to turn around.

"Wait," Sam called her back, making her freeze. "You can't just leave us out here."

"That's exactly what I am going to do," she responded casually. "But I am so sure we'll meet again." And with that she was gone, running into the shadows of the forest.

"We have to go after her," Dean said pushing himself to his feet a third time. He was able to gain his balance after wavering a few seconds. He held his hand out, waiting for Sam to take it. Holding back his arguments, Sam took his brother's hand and was hauled to his feet.

He grabbed Dean's arm when the trees started spinning. He kept a tight grip on the black fabric of Dean's jacket until he was able to keep his balance. Then he let go and started following Dean through the woods.

They trekked through the woods, in silence, for fifteen minutes. Either the girl had a ride waiting for her or she had some kind of teleportation power. _Yeah, that's all we need: A teleporting psycho._

Dean fell onto a rock, Sam surprised he found it in the dark, and asked, "Do you have anything in your pockets?"

"Um…" Sam bit his lip and reached into his coat. He found nothing, but a manila envelope he did not remember putting in there. Eyebrows raised, the word 'TRAP' echoing through his head, he pulled it out.

"What's that," Dean asked standing and crossing the few steps to stop at Sam's side.

"I don't know," the younger Winchester replied. The envelope was too flat to hold a bomb, the only indication something was in it was a small, rectangular shaped something at the bottom. Sam flipped open the tabs and pulled it open. He pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to Dean, and tipped the envelope upside down. A box of matches fell into his hand. Scrawled across them, in block letters, were the words: **Good Luck**.

"Good Luck," Sam muttered the message baffling him.

"What?"

"The matches say, 'Good Luck.'"

"Good Luck? What the hell does that mean?"

"I don't…" Sam pushed open the matches, pulled one out, and struck it. He held it up, grabbed the note from Dean, and read it aloud:

**Congrats Boys,**

** You have been personally selected to become the next two participants in my game. It has been boring without players; the last two were months ago.**

** But that's for another more depressing time. This is about you. You and all the fun we'll have. As you can see, or maybe not, straight ahead is the way out.**

** BUT (oh come on there is always a 'but') you have to get past my obstacles. If you are as good as they say you are you should do just fine. And if not… well, I'm sure something will eat your starved corpses. The game begins at dawn. Good Luck.**

**XOXO,**

_**Nina**_

**P.S. There are no rules to my game. Anything can happen (just so you know).**

"At least we know her name, now," Sam muttered putting the match out and letting it drop to the floor.

"So, are you telling me that she killed Reggie Myer on purpose, planted that skin in her tub to make it look like she was a shape shifter, just to get us here," Dean asked, ignoring his brother's comment. Sam nodded slightly a little startled when Dean yanked Nina's note out of his hands. Dean's eyes scanned the letter, looking for a clue that Sam knew wasn't there. When he didn't find anything helpful he shoved the letter back into Sam's hand and stalked back to his rock.

Sam scanned the letter a second time, seeing no hidden meanings behind the words. He folded the page, sticking it into his left coat pocket. He looked down at the match book, reading **Good Luck** again. He had no idea who this Nina girl was, but he had a feeling they were in for a long day tomorrow.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Bobby hated surprises; it was as simple as that. Some surprises he could easily take with a smile, let them slide. Like when the Winchester boys were younger. Both boys had drawn countless pictures that ended up stuck to his fridge, made an array of crafts from stuff around his house, and there was the catastrophic breakfast of '88. A nine-year-old Dean and a five-year-old Sam got up very early and tried to make breakfast for John and Bobby (Bobby was cleaning eggs and pancakes off his ceiling for weeks after that).

But those surprises he took with a smile-and somewhere in his attic was a box labeled: _**Gifts from the boys**_. Finding out that Reggie Myer wasn't a shape shifter but an innocent bystander was one surprise the older hunter couldn't stomach.

Bobby had been crashed out on his couch, legs and his right arm hanging off the edge, when his phone rang. Thirty-five years of hunting had honed his five senses to react to even the slightest noise or movement. He was off the couch in seconds, his legs tingling with renewed circulation and his back pretty much bitching at him for sleeping on the damn couch at all. _How Sam can tolerate that damn thing is beyond me_, Bobby thought as he picked his phone up off his desk.

At first, he thought it was Dean or Sam calling for help or for more information. One look at his watch, however, knocked out that assumption. It was two in South Dakota, making it four where the boys were. Bobby was pretty sure neither one were awake, Sam normally up at five-thirty, a quarter to six.

_Of course, _a small voice said in the way back of his mind, _they could have run into some kind of trouble. It's the Winchesters; can they ever really avoid trouble?_ Convinced he was about to hear a very weak, pain-ridden voice of one of the two boys he had helped raise, he answered the phone with a worried, "What happened?"

"_As flattered as I am that you are worried about me, Singer. I regret to inform you that your worry has been wasted. I am about as A-Okay as I was when we last spoke_." It wasn't the guys he expected, but it was a familiar voice nonetheless.

"Jefferson, you find anything," Bobby asked breathing a sigh of relief.

"_Yeah_," Jefferson responded his voice losing its amusement.

"What'd you find out?" Bobby's worry peaked again, that small voice repeating, _the Winchesters are like a magnet for trouble_, over and over again throughout his mind. He gripped the phone tighter, hoping to calm any shaking that may or may not occur.

"_Josh called me_," Jefferson started.

"And?"

"_He did some digging, found out some interesting things_."

"Evasiveness really pisses me off, Jeff," Bobby grumbled starting to pace back and forth.

"_Sorry, Singer, but I'm not sure you want to hear this_," Jefferson mumbled. Bobby growled in annoyance and the younger hunter hurriedly continued. "_Remember those two hunters that went missing a few months ago_?"

"Um… Henry Beckett and Grant Tucker?"

"_Yeah, those two. Well, they had been hunting the same thing, what they thought was a werewolf attack. Instead, someone attacked the man with a knife, killed him, and cut out his heart_."

"Wouldn't those two have noticed knife wounds? I mean, I really didn't know Beckett, but Tucker was actually a very good hunter."

"_That's the thing_," Jefferson pointed out sounding grim. "_The guys didn't get to see the body. They entered town, barely got situated, and just vanished_."

"So, someone is luring hunters to them?"

"_Exactly_."

"So, this Reggie Myer person…"

_"…was most likely just a girl. Whoever killed her must have planted the shifter skin to make Dean and Sam pursue the case further. Without the help of an outside party, they probably would have passed the case off as a crazy psycho. They'd have let the police deal with it."_

"Sam might. Dean would probably want to track the crazy SOB down," Bobby muttered sinking onto his couch.

"_Maybe, but that's not my point. Those two might be in trouble, if it hasn't found them yet. You know those two…_"

"Of course I do. Like their daddy, trouble seems to always find them."

"_Look, I'm close to where they are. Call them; see if you can get a hold of them. I'll check to see if they are okay. Which motel are they at again_?"

"Grayview Motel," Bobby replied vaguely remembering Dean mentioning the motel when he called them the first time.

"_Okay, I'll be there in a few. Call them, and if we're wrong then… well, you know Dean won't let us live this down_."  
"I'll buy duck tape, you get the rope," Bobby joked and Jefferson laughed quietly. He hung up a few seconds later.

Sighing, hoping him and Jefferson were being stupid, he dialed Dean's cell first. The thing rang once and then went to voicemail,_ "Gomez Addams is busy._" Bobby rolled his eyes at the boy's choice of words. He had changed it since the last time Bobby heard it.

"Hey, Dean, it's Bobby. I wanted to know if you were okay, but you ain't answering. I don't know if you're sleeping off a night of fun, beer or a girl and I could care less about the details, but when you get this call me. Please." Bobby hung up and then dialed Sam's number.

_"This is Sam, leave a message_," the voicemail was simple and to the point. The kid was more like his dad then he'd admit. Dean, as John had told Bobby several times, was like his mother.

"Hey Sam, Bobby here," Bobby started feeling his hair graying even more. "I'm pretty sure you aren't awake right now. I hope, actually. When you get this call me. Your brother isn't answering and I have news… Just please, call me back." he hung up, throwing his phone onto the couch. All he had to do was wait for Jefferson to call. Maybe they were wrong; maybe those boys were just sleeping and neglected to hear their phones. _And I am the freaking Queen of Timbuktu, _Bobby thought burying his face in his hands.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Jefferson drove past the sign stating the population of the town, noting that there was a little over a thousand people in the place. He hated small towns; they were just a hassle to get any information out of people. No one trusted strangers in a small town and word travelled so fast that you were labeled an outsider within ten minutes of driving into town.

His mind wandered to the Winchester boys. He had met them about two years after Mary Winchester died. He had stopped by Jim Murphy's place to stock up on holy water and there they were. The pastor was watching them while their father went off with Caleb to track down a Wendigo.

The youngest clung to his brother like he was a life preserver while the older one kept a wary watch on the older hunter. But when Pastor Jim introduced Jefferson as a friend, Dean calmed down slightly. He even relaxed his grip on Sam's hand.

_Jim had left the kids and Jefferson alone in his living room for a few minutes, going into the adjacent church to get the holy water. Jefferson sat on the edge of Jim's recliner, bouncing his leg for something to do._

_ "Why do you do that?" Dean had asked sitting on Jim's couch. Sam managed to get on the couch by himself, happy with his accomplishment. Dean flashed him a small smile and turned his green eyes back on the older hunter._

_ "It's a habit," Jefferson replied and his leg went still._

_ "How long have you known Pastor Jim," the six-year-old asked trying to sound casual. For a young kid he acted more like an adult than some of the actual adults Jeff knew._

_ "Since I was sixteen," the older hunter replied glancing at Sam. The younger Winchester was humming tunelessly to himself, lost in his own world, oblivious to the conversation between his brother and the older hunter._

_ "So, like forever," Dean questioned. Jefferson wasn't sure if the kid knew he was prying or not and it was starting to get on his nerves._

_ "More like ten years," Jefferson responded checking behind him for Jim's return. _

_ "How long have you been hunting," Dean asked when he was sure Sam wasn't listening. The younger kid had pulled a matchbox out of his pocket and was rolling it across the couch cushions. He was supplying the motor sounds, occasionally making a beeping noise._

_ "Since I was six," Jefferson replied absentmindedly._

_ "So like…"_

_ "Look, kid, I'm flattered you are so interested in me, but I really don't like talking about my life," Jefferson snapped using most of his willpower not to jump to his feet and stalk out of the room._

_ "I'm not interested; I was just making small talk. Daddy does it all the time. Uncle Bobby says he's bad at it, but I don't. My daddy is good at everything." The pride in that kid's eyes just mentioning his dad made Jefferson wish he had felt half of that toward his own father._

He snapped back to the present when he drove past a darkened gas station. There was a car parked out front, illuminated by the only light-a flickering streetlight. Jefferson knew that car anywhere. Even remembered the day John handed the keys over to his oldest and said, "_You take care of her and she'll take care of you._" The look of pure shock and excitement made Dean look years younger. The older hunter was kind of waiting for the middle Winchester to squeal in delight, but then that would have been as unmanly as the teenager could look.

Jefferson pulled into the stations parking lot, parking next to the Impala. He opened his door, pulling himself out of the car. He headed around his vehicle, stopping by the driver side door of the Impala. The door opened easily, the hinges squeaking like they always did.

Shockingly, the keys were in the ignition. That raised several red flags for the older hunter. Next, Dean's and Sam's phones were sitting on the driver side seat, both turned off. Shutting the door, Jefferson walked around the car once, hoping to find any clue as to where the Winchesters were, but found nothing. He stopped next to the passenger door, looking through the gas station windows. Something was lying on the floor, barely visible behind a shelf.

Eyebrows raised, senses on high alert, Jefferson pulled out his gun and headed inside. Using his coat sleeve to open the door, he crept further into the building, past shelves of food and a counter. He stopped next to a body of a young guy, no older than Dean, lying on his back. The man had been shot, blood spreading across the tiled floor. There was no point in checking for a pulse, the older hunter knew the guy was dead. He also knew neither Winchester would ever shoot the man, which meant he was killed while someone was trying to get to one of them.

"Crap," Jefferson muttered heading outside the station. He jumped in his car, driving a few blocks down the street and parking it against a curb. He ran back to the station, cell phone already in hand.

"911," a female voice answered.

"Yeah, I'd like to report a break in at the corner gas station," Jefferson said as he skidded to a halt next to the Impala.

"Your name sir," the voice asked.

Instead of answering, Jefferson hung up and opened the Impala door. He tossed both Winchesters' phones in the other seat, sliding behind the wheel. He noticed, for the first time, that the ashtray was sticking out. Dean's ring and necklace were nestled inside, and on the dashboard were Dean's wallet, Sam's wallet, and the younger Winchester's money clip (seventy-five bucks untouched).

The older hunter started the Impala and squealed out of the parking lot. He didn't remember seeing security cameras near the door, but his luck the damn things would be hidden. He'd have to hide the Impala somewhere, but first he had to call Bobby.

He grabbed the first phone off the passenger seat, deciding it was too much effort to pull his out of his pocket, and dialed the older hunter's number.

"Sam," Bobby answered. He had relief in his voice that Jefferson was about to crush.

"Not exactly," Jefferson responded. "I found the Impala sitting in a gas station parking lot. Everything the boys usually have on them-cell phones, wallets, Dean's necklace and ring, Sam's money clip… All of it was in the car, but they were nowhere to be found. They're gone Bobby, we were right."


	3. Chapter 3

**I OWN NOTHING**

_**Supernatural**_

Dawn had met the Winchesters slowly trekking their way through the forest. Neither one were doing much talking, both keeping their eyes out for Nina's traps. Just by reading the note, Sam had a feeling she wasn't one to be kind with her "obstacles." His mind kept flicking back to the Indiana Jones movies. He kept seeing one of them tripping over an unseen tripwire and a huge boulder start to roll toward them while they had to run, or a wave of knives or poisonous arrows whizzing past them, or two battle axes, chained to the trees, swinging back and forth threatening to hack them in half.

_I've gotta stop watching those movies_, he thought shaking his head slowly. Nina only had a night to set up everything; she didn't have the time to do all of that. '_Unless_,' a small, evil voice, sounding oddly enough like Smeagle from the Lord of the Rings, started in the back of his head, '_She had this set up for a while, waiting for some unsuspecting hunter to cross her path. There could be a pit of poisonous snakes just waiting for you to step in or a hole, a deep hole, camouflaged by weeds, branches, and leaves with two hungry lions waiting for you to fall through.'_

'_That's just stupid,' _another voice, sounding exactly like Dean, snapped. '_I mean, who would take the frigging time to get lions. Snakes I could see, but lions…'_

'_It's a possibility,'_ the Smeagle voice whined.

'_Yeah, and pigs will fly out of my ass,'_ the Dean voice cracked. Sam made to tell both voices to shut up, but then realized the real Dean would probably think he was going crazy and he really didn't…

His thoughts were cut off when he felt something tighten around his ankle and he was flipped into the air. He let out a loud gasp of surprise as the world was suddenly turned upside-down. He was gently swinging back and forth, blood suddenly rushing to his head.

His brother was stopped a few feet from him, hand resting on a tree, trying to keep himself upright from laughing so hard. Dean couldn't breathe, his face turning red, and Sam was pretty sure he was about to collapse. Then the laugh broke up when Dean took a deep, gasping breath.

"Looks like you stepped into it, Sammy," Dean said trying hold back another wave of laughter.

"Ha, ha," Sam said sarcastically, his head feeling like it was in a vise. "Help me get down before I pass out."

"Okay, let me find a sharp r…" Dean had taken three steps, three steps he didn't take before, and was snagged by a rope matching Sam's. He made a loud yelp as he was hoisted off the ground, hanging upside-down similar to his brother.

"Don't say a fucking word," Dean snapped as he swung back and forth.

"I would, but I'm stuck in the same position," Sam grumbled, the imaginary vise beginning to slowly tighten. He couldn't think of a way to get down, Nina having taken any weapon they may have had. He thought of the matches that were in his pocket, until his eyes raked across the ground and he spotted the matches and the envelope with Nina's letter lying amongst the leaves.

"Perfect," he muttered as the edges of his vision began to gray. He looked at the rope, wondering if he could try and unknot it, when a shoe was shoved under his nose. The smell, from years of hunting in the brown boots, stung Sam's eyes. He coughed trying to push the shoe away.

"Knock it off, and just take it," Dean snapped. Sam did as he was told asking, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Hold on a sec," Dean responded as he shoved his sock at Sam. Sam took it, shoving the garment in his brother's boot. He was seriously questioning his brother's sanity when he heard Dean say, "Got it."

His brother fell, or that's what Sam thought. He was about to reach out and grab Dean's arm, but his brother landed almost silently on his feet. His knees were bent, letting them take the impact so his ankles weren't harmed.

"How the hell…?"

Instead of answering, Dean grabbed the nearest tree to keep himself upright. The blood rushing back through his body was making him briefly dizzy. When he regained his balance, Dean started searching for something to cut Sam down with. Not even four seconds into his search and he let loose a quiet, "Son of a bitch."

"What," Sam asked worriedly, wishing his brother would hurry up.

"Nothing, I stepped on a rock," Dean replied. Sam knew immediately that he was lying, two things making it blatantly obvious. One: a rock would not have constituted swearing. And two: there was a small amount of blood appearing on each leaf Dean stepped on.

"You stabbed your foot with a stick didn't you," Sam asked slowly. The lack of a response was his answer. Dean picked up a jagged rock, weighed it in his hand for a second, and then turned around.

"Hack the ropes," Dean said stretching up to hand Sam the rock. As he did so, he took his boot from Sam's grasp. Using the rock, pulling himself up by grabbing the rope with his free hand, Sam began cutting the rope.

Nina had used rope that was not thin, but not hard to cut through. If it wasn't for the vertigo, Sam would have been loose in a few seconds, but it took almost a full two minutes. Finally, he was free. He let his whole body fall right-side up, but kept his hands tightened on the rope so he didn't land on the ground at some awkward angle.

When he was sure his landing wasn't about to kill him, he let himself fall. As much as he wanted to avoid an awkward landing, he somehow managed it and nearly lost his balance. Dean grabbed his arm, steadying him.

"That sucked ass," Dean commented letting his brother go. He walked over to a rock, settling down to check his foot.

"Yeah, it did," Sam agreed settling at the base of a tree. "How did you know slipping your foot out of the rope would work?"

"I didn't," Dean replied pulling his sock over his bleeding wound. "But it was worth a shot, right?" he put his boot on, lacing it up.

"The things you are willing to try…" Shaking his head, wondering what they were about to step into next, Sam pulled himself to his feet. His ankle was sore from getting snagged on the rope, but other than that he came out unscathed. _That's a first_, he thought hoping he did not just curse himself.

"Let's go," Dean said standing up. He started heading deeper into the woods. Sam collected the matches and envelope from off the ground, shoved them in the inside pocket of his coat, and hurriedly followed.

"Your foot okay," Sam asked curiously, watching the back of his brother's head.

"I'm fine, Sam." _If I had a quarter every time he claimed everything was fine I'd be a very rich man_, Sam thought but otherwise let the subject drop.

"You know, it felt kinda nice to have a rope not tied around my hands for a change."

"We aren't tied up that much," Dean said glancing back at Sam.

"Whose life are you talking about, Dean? Unlike normal people, we get chained, handcuffed, and tied to pretty much anything. Especially when Dad was teaching us to get out of those things."

"Those lessons were great," Dean said a smile in his voice.

"Oh, yeah, being stuck in a chair for three hours because you can't get the handcuffs off was the best lesson ever," Sam replied sarcastically.

"The paperclip wasn't working right." The smile clearly fell from his brother's face.

"Dean, it was an inanimate object. You do realize those are objects without any form of life. Which means the object isn't to blame, it's the operator."

"Sam, shut…" the words never made it fully out as a bullet whizzed past Sam's ear interrupting Dean's tirade.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Dean yanked Sam behind a nearby tree as another bullet tore through the forest. He couldn't quite pinpoint where the shooting was coming from just that the bullets were flying from the direction they had come. He looked around the tree for a second, Sam yanking him back when a third bullet whistled past their hiding place.

"Okay, on the count of three we race toward that tree," Dean ordered pointing to a much thicker, half bare maple.

"That's about ten feet away," Sam argued in a low voice.

"It's either that or hide behind that skinny twig over there," Dean snapped pointing to a closer tree, thin enough to hide a 2D character and nothing else.

"Okay."

"One," Dean started holding up a finger, "two," he held up a second. "Three." And they both started sprinting, Dean pushing Sam ahead of him. Bullets began firing at them rapidly, pinging off trees and boulders.

They were hardly three feet from their original hiding place when Dean felt a sharp pain rip through his side. He took no notice, hoping beyond hope that he was snagged by a sharp branch. He tried to speed up, more bullets flying at them. Two feet from the tree, he felt a second sharp pain in his leg, one that nearly caused him to collapse. Sheer stubbornness kept him standing and both Winchesters reached the tree.

Sam placed his hands on his knees, taking deep, gasping breaths. Dean glanced briefly at his new wounds, both on the right side, and hurriedly pressed them into the tree so Sam wouldn't notice. The side wound went straight through, not hitting anything vital from what he could see. It was the leg wound that was the problem, the bullet still lodged into his flesh. He needed a closer look, but with Sam around that was not about to happen.

_Just keep from passing out and Sam will never know_, he thought to himself as he dug up every ounce of stubbornness and willpower he possessed. That was going to be easier said than done when blood loss came into effect, but he was a Winchester and blood loss had never bothered him before. _So, why let it start now?_

"Are you even listening to me," Sam's voice cut into his already occupied mind. Dean was startled back to reality, his wounds making themselves known. He glanced at his brother and said, "What?"

"I said, are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine, Sam. Are you okay," Dean replied, getting an eye roll from his brother as confirmation that Sam was fine. He looked around the tree, noting that no more bullets fired at them, which Dean found reassuring. He pulled his head back behind the tree and said, "I think whoever was firing at us stopped."

"Good, then let's get going," Sam said and started to head back onto the path. Dean followed, his right leg making its pain known every time he put weight on it. _Just keep walking, it's not that bad, _Dean kept telling himself. _The forest isn't dimming in the slightest. You're going to be fine. No, I don't need to grab that tree for support. I'll be okay in a few minutes._

"Dean," Sam's voice snapped back into his thoughts. He hadn't realized he had stopped walking, that he was in fact leaning on a tree for support.

"What," Dean asked pushing himself away from the tree, but still managing to hide his right side from Sam.

"Are you okay?" Sam repeated worry the dominant emotion on his face.

"Oh, you know me. I'm not as young as I used to be, that run took a lot out of me," Dean lied smoothly wondering just how much more Winchester willpower he could summon before he collapsed.

"Okay," Sam said skeptically. "Would you like to rest?"

"No, let's keep moving. The less time we stop the less time we'll have to spend in these stupid woods. We've been walking for nearly an hour and we've run into two of Nina's obstacles. By the rate she's going, if we don't get out of here soon she will succeed in killing us."

"Fine," Sam scoffed and resumed walking.

They continued moving, without incident, for another two hours. It was supposed to start warming up, it was the middle of spring for God sakes, but Dean was still cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stifle the shivers that had developed. The forest kept slipping in and out of focus. _Keep walking, don't stop_, he kept repeating over and over in his head. He was unaware of the trail that he had started, his leg wound slowly dripping onto the forest floor sprinkling the fallen leaves with his crimson blood.

Sam was saying something, but Dean just couldn't focus on what exactly. It had something to do with a fork. Why Sam would be talking about a fork, when there was nothing to eat, was beyond Dean's comprehension. _And why is it so freaking cold_, he thought as another shiver ripped through him.

He was so absorbed in his own head that he ended up running into Sam. His brother had stopped suddenly, apparently listening for something.

"…you…that?" was all Dean took in. It was getting harder to keep his eyes open, let alone concentrate on anything Sam was saying. His arm was grabbed suddenly and he was thrown behind a tree. Grateful for the momentary support of the tree, he leaned into it. Resting his head against the bark, he vaguely heard Sam whisper, in mostly broken up words, "…quiet. I…there….someone coming."

It was quiet for a few minutes, the trees swaying back and forth-and Dean was pretty sure it wasn't because of the breeze either. Then Sam said, "…gone now."

"Sam," Dean said in a barely whispered voice. Dean couldn't lie to his brother anymore, the trees were beginning to tilt dangerously and he was sure he would turn to ice soon.

"Yeah," Sam replied not really looking at him.

"I'm gonna need you to catch me," was Dean's last conscious thought before everything went dark.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

After he had stashed the Winchesters' car in a storage facility in the next town over, Jefferson drove back to their motel in his own car. He had picked the lock while the desk clerks were trading shifts and had been holed up ever since.

He had phoned every hunter contact he had-which was a lot, not as much as Bobby's but up there-and found out that nine hunters had gone missing over the past six months. All nine had disappeared the same way. One or two of them, at a time, were lured into a hunt under false pretenses. All of them were never seen again. By using Sam's computer-never one to get one himself, too afraid of the computer trail-Jefferson was able to match up each faux hunt with the disappearance of the hunters.

He was just scribbling something down in his notepad when there was a knock at the door. He cautiously got to his feet, stashing his colt behind his back, and walked toward the door. He looked in the eyehole, actually surprised the place had them at all, and saw Bobby standing outside. Wearing the gruff expression he always wore, and the trucker cap to go with it, he was looking very impatient being made to wait.

"You shag ass to get here, Singer," Jefferson asked opening the door to let the older hunter in. Instead of an answer, Jefferson received a glare that, if looks could kill, would have had him in a grave before he even knew he was dead.

"Find anything," Bobby asked curiously.

"Um, yeah," Jefferson replied shutting the door. He crossed the room, picking up his notes. "Aside from Dean and Sam and Beckett and Tucker nine other hunters have gone missing over the past six months. Every couple of weeks one or two would get dragged into a fake hunt…"

"Like Johnny's boys," Bobby supplied crossing his arms across his chest.

"Right, and then go missing. Sometimes their bodies will turn up…" Jefferson looked at his notes, all scribbled out in his piss poor handwriting, and continued. "Three John Does and two Jane Does have turned up in countless backwoods all over the United State. Police never put the pattern together because..."

"…they showed up in different places, yeah I know," Bobby finished for Jefferson. He started pacing, every so often removing his trucker cap and putting it back on. "Didn't Joshua do all this research?"

"No, he only found Tucker and Beckett. I found the others. Research is a bitch, I'll tell you."

"What else did you find?"

"Besides an abandoned Impala that would have the owner tearing apart every inch of this town to find out who left her free to be stolen? Nothing. I have no idea where Dean and Sam are, I have no idea if they are connected to the other missing hunters in any way, and I am worried that if we don't find them soon we never will."

"How do you know these Does are the missing hunters," Bobby shot at Jefferson. Without a pause, Jefferson said, "I compared the pictures I was able to get of them when they were alive with their crime scene photos. It wasn't hard."

"Who were they?"

"Francesca Gomez, Michael Percival, Terry Darnell, Barry Denton, and Jaime Pack. Pack and Denton were found in the backwoods of Montana. Darnell was found in Michigan. And Gomez and Percival were found in Colorado. Two were shot to death, one was stabbed, one was found washed up on a riverbank, and the last was clearly strangled to death."

"We've gotta find the boys before something like that happens to them," Bobby said sitting weak-kneed across from Jefferson.

"I agree whole-heartedly, but how the hell are we going to do that?"


	4. Chapter 4

**They aren't mine, too bad, huh.**

_**Supernatural**_

Sam remembered many things-it was just something he could always do even as a little kid-but the one thing he remembered in almost perfect clarity was his essay to the Stanford admissions office. He had written a five page essay on how his brother was the greatest inspiration in his life. He wrote about how Dean was his hero. How his brother was always there for him even when he'd rather be doing something else. How his brother would sacrifice everything just to make Sam happy. He just wrote how proud he was to be Dean's brother. And he meant every word. Until stuff like this happened.

He should have known something was up with his brother; Dean would never let his mind wander unless something was definitely up. Like two bullet holes in his body. Sam had caught Dean before he hit the ground, lowering him to the forest floor. He sat next to his brother, checking him for injuries. It took all of five seconds to find the leg and side wounds.

He did quick first aid on the leg wound, using his belt as a tourniquet. There wasn't much he could do with the side wound, but at least the bleeding had slowed down. Dean was shivering, shock and fever clearly kicking in. Sam pulled off his tan jacket, wrapping it around Dean's shoulders, and hurriedly pushed himself to his feet. He had to get out of that forest and get Dean help. Even a makeshift surgery in their motel room was better than letting him bleed to death out in the woods.

Sam pulled his brother to his feet, throwing Dean's left arm over his shoulder. He wrapped his right arm around his brother's waist, nearly collapsing with the full 174 pounds of his brother leaning on him, and started trekking through the woods again.

He had been walking for the better part of seventy-five minutes, Dean in and out of consciousness the whole time, when Sam really started to get pissed. Pissed because Dean was a stubborn ass, pissed because they were stuck in the frigging woods, pissed because Nina was a bitch… just pissed.

"'Oh, Dean, I see you lost a hand. Are you okay?' 'Oh, don't worry, 'tis only a flesh wound.'" Sam rolled his eyes, unable to hide a smile. He highly doubted his brother would ever say the word 'tis. "Of course I never thought you'd read a book, but every time I see you at a bookstore you have your nose deep in a Koontz novel. Dean Koontz, honestly man. He's like a Stephen King wanna be."

Dean mumbled something unintelligible, and his head rested on Sam's shoulder. Sam was solely tempted to just throw his brother over his shoulder and carry him, but the moment Dean woke up-and he would because if anyone could drag themselves to consciousness when there was no way they should it's Dean-he'd bitch that he was fully capable of walking.

Sam's back was starting to hurt, his brother's weight getting to him, and he stopped next to a tree. He settled his brother against the bark, stretching to relieve his muscles. He crouched next to Dean, loosening the makeshift tourniquet so he didn't completely cut off the circulation to the leg, and checked over the side wound. Thankfully, and Sam was not about to blame it on luck because good luck avoided everyone with the name Winchester, the bleeding had stopped. Of course, Dean's jacket was going to need to be cleaned, again.

Sam pushed himself to his feet, hoping to find a stream close by. He was sixteen steps from his brother when he fell. He let loose a strangled scream, but managed to grab the edge of the hole before he fell any deeper.

He looked down, feeling his heart slam against his ribcage. There were several wooden spikes waiting for his body to land onto them, impaling him. He tried to pull himself out of the hole, but his sneakers kept slipping in the dirt.

"Dean," he called hoping his distressed voice would arouse his brother from unconsciousness. But there was no one to grab his arm, and his hands were slipping under the dirt.

"Dean," he tried again. "Come on Dean, wake up." He was slipping further, Death almost beckoning him. _How could it end like this_, he thought pessimism kicking in like an unwanted wart. _I hunt demons, ghost, witches, shape shifters, pretty much anything that would give people nightmares and I am about to die by impalement. Fuck_.

The dirt and grass slipped, his hands unable to hold on anymore, and down he went. He couldn't help thinking; _I hope Dean finds a way out of the woods without me._

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Jefferson unlocked the storage garage, stepping back before Bobby could push past him. The older hunter wanted to check out the Impala, look for anything Jefferson might have missed. The younger hunter wanted to say something; Bobby knew the look well, both Winchester boys giving it to him periodically. But Jefferson, like Dean, was never one to say anything to piss off an older hunter. Sam, on the other hand, wouldn't have kept silent. One reason why him and his father were always fighting. Another was that they were so much alike they were bound to butt heads.

Bobby opened the door, using the sunlight and the car light to see. Besides the keys, which were residing in Jefferson's pocket, everything was where it had been when Jefferson found the Impala. Bobby slid behind the wheel, the familiar smell of the car reminding him instantly of the Winchesters. Funny how a smell could trigger so many emotions, so many memories. Both boys learned to drive in this car, Dean had lost his virginity in the backseat, and once, after many, many, many shots of tequila, John had admitted to Bobby that not one, but both boys were conceived in that car.

Bobby came back to reality, picking Dean's necklace up from the ashtray, weighing it in his hands. He remembered when Sam asked for something to give to his dad, something that John would love. Bobby had handed Sam the necklace, telling him he just had it lying around and really didn't need it. The younger Winchester flashed him a big grin, thanked him, and headed out. It shocked Bobby when they showed up a few weeks after Christmas to see Dean, not John, wearing the amulet.

He replaced the necklace, picking up the ring. Bobby never asked what the ring symbolized, just knew that Dean had started wearing it recently. All through his teen years he never wore the thing, any accessory that wasn't necessary not needed. Bobby suspected a girl had given it to him, of course with as many flings as Dean had had it was impossible to pinpoint which one.

He put the ring back, too, deciding that dwelling on stupid things such as where Dean got his ring wasn't helping them find the boys faster. His eyes slid across the money clip sitting on the dash. Bobby remembered Sam telling him that Jessica had given him that on their one year anniversary. Sam, being so immersed in finals, forgot and hadn't gotten her anything. He was so guilty that he ended up calling Dean for advice only to hang up. He had told Bobby this in confidence and the older hunter never repeated it to Dean.

Of course, if Sam would have let the phone ring at all, Dean wouldn't have answered. The older Winchester had been badly hurt in a hunt, breaking his leg in six places after receiving a major concussion. He probably wouldn't have been coherent enough to help Sam, anyway.

_Too many memories_, Bobby thought trying to get back to the present. He leaned over, onto his side, and opened the glove compartment, searching for anything helpful. Except a cigar box full of fake IDs, a map, a pistol, a flashlight, spare keys to the Impala-Dean making a copy after Gordon Walker stole theirs during a vampire hunt-, and John's old phone Bobby found nothing helpful. He slammed the compartment, ready to sit up, when a manila envelope caught his eye.

"What," Jefferson asked clearly noticing Bobby's hesitation.

"This," Bobby said pulling the envelope out from under the passenger seat. He sat up, eyeing the thing suspiciously. It was thick, obviously full of pages and pages of information on something.

"Let's take it back to motel," Jefferson suggested and Bobby nodded in agreement.

The Impala was locked back up, the car looking very lonely without its overly possessive owner. Both hunters spared no second glance at the car's hiding place as they trekked back to Jefferson's dodge.

Bobby slipped into the passenger seat, studying the envelope closely. Whoever left it obviously wanted the thing to be found. Was it the Winchesters' abductor playing a game with the older hunters? If so, how the hell did he/she know that anyone would come looking for the Winchesters at all? _Just who are we dealing with?_ Bobby's mind supplied as he weighed the envelope in his hands.

It took little, if any, time for Jefferson to pull into the motel's parking lot. Both guys got out, heading toward the motel. Bobby unlocked the door, having found the motel key on top of the television earlier that morning. He crossed the threshold first, settling at the table.

Jefferson shut the door, sitting across from Bobby. Both hunters exchanged a quick glance, each awaiting the other's okay to open the envelope. Slowly, Bobby flipped it over and peeled open the tabs. He opened the flap and looked inside.

The entire envelope was full of information on the Winchesters. Bobby pulled out countless documents. Their birth certificates, their criminal records, their mother's death certificate, Dean's death certificate-granted that was a fluke, seeing as he was not dead. The Winchester's entire life lay among the two hunters, everything out in the open like a dancer pushed on stage.

"Whoever we're dealing with really did their homework," Jefferson commented picking up a copy of Sam's school records.

"You don't say," Bobby muttered a sarcastic drawl to his voice. He skimmed through John's military records, wondering who would go through all the trouble.

"Who would be this interested…?" Jefferson was cut off by a knock at the door. Bobby stood up, scowling at the documents littering the table, and walked to the door. He looked through the eyehole, eyes falling upon a nervous, thirty-something hunter. His brown hair was sticking up in a way that even Dean Winchester couldn't imitate, his blue eyes were flicking back and forth looking for unseen assailants, and he was wringing his hands like he always did when he was kept waiting.

"Joshua," Bobby said, eyebrows raised, as he opened the door. He stepped back to allow Joshua to enter the room, and closed the door behind the even younger hunter.

Bobby knew for a fact that Joshua Michaels should never have become a hunter, but he was raised that way and that was the only lifestyle he knew. After thirty-one years of hunting, the thirty-seven year old had become the most paranoid hunter out there. He was convinced that everything was evil. That everyone wanted to kill him. It surprised Bobby every single day that he trusted their small knit group at all. Of course, if he wasn't Jefferson's little brother he wouldn't have trusted them in the least.

"Hey, Bobby. Jeff," Joshua said in his small, timid voice. He sat on the edge of the bed closest to the door, clasping his hands together and letting them sit in his lap. He was quiet for a moment, just staring at the floor. Then he said, "I have news."

"Yeah, we do, too," Jefferson said gesturing to all the papers on the table. Joshua took no notice, still staring at the floor.

"What news," Bobby said his voice more gruff than he wanted. He hated evasiveness, he was sure both Michaels' brothers knew that. Hell, he was sure everyone he came across knew that. The Winchesters found that out when they first met him.

"I think I know who has the Winchesters," Joshua said finding the pea green carpet the most interesting thing in the world.

"Who," both Jefferson and Bobby said simultaneously.

"Nina Horton," Joshua replied finally looking up at Bobby and his brother. "Nina Horton's got them." Both Bobby and Jeff exchanged a quick glance and said, "Who's that?"

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Sam was sure he was dead, was sure he had been impaled by the wooden spears sitting at the bottom of the pit, but he wasn't. Something had grabbed his hand seconds before he could become yet another victim to the real Dracula's favorite form of torture.

His eyes snapped open and he glanced up to see Dean, face bunched up in pain and exertion, trying to pull him out of the hole. Sam started to climb, tightening his own grip on Dean's hand, as his brother started backing up. Sam knew the movement had to be putting his brother's wounds through hell, knew that pure adrenaline was the only thing keeping him going, and knew that he, in fact, would probably be carrying Dean through the woods again.

Inch by, frighteningly painful, inch Sam ended up back on the ground. He laid on his back, looking up at the blue sky, listening to Dean's labored breathing. Again, without thought of his own psychical pain, Dean had saved his life. Sam scrambled up, crawling over to his brother.

If Dean was pale before, it had nothing on what he looked like now. His side wound had begun bleeding again, the blood soaking his already bloody jacket and Sam's jacket also. Sam pressed down on the wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding, but weak hands pushed his away.

"'m okay," a weak voice said and a pair of green, unfocused eyes, opened to look at Sam.

"Like hell you are," Sam snapped and pressed down on the wound again. There was a small hiss from Dean, but the older hunter didn't try to stop Sam, again. They sat like that for a while, just until the bleeding slowed to a weak drip, and finally Sam stood up.

He wiped his bloody hands on his jeans, surprised at how much they were shaking, and took a look around. He didn't want a repeat of the pit incident, and he really had to get Dean out of there, so he grabbed a fallen tree branch from the ground and began searching the immediate area.

After a moment or two of searching he had found three other traps like the one he had fallen into but no others. He threw the branch aside and headed back to Dean. His brother was on the edge between consciousness and unconsciousness. Knowing it probably wasn't safe for Dean to black out, not sure if his brother would wake up again-and that scared him just thinking about it-Sam pulled Dean up and said, "You think you can walk with some help?"

"Yeah," was the expected answer, albeit weaker than usual. Sam slung his brother's arm over his shoulder, put his own arm around Dean's waist, and the both of them continued walking. Sam doing more walking than Dean.

"Remember that time, when I was ten or eleven and you decided to pull that prank war," Sam muttered hoping that if Dean kept talking he would less likely pass out.

"Yeah, you glued my ass to the toilet seat," Dean replied sounding mildly amused. His head rested on Sam's shoulder, each exhaled breath tickling Sam's neck.

"And you put Nair in my shampoo. It was the first and last time Dad got his way and I cut my hair short."

"Because you had to. Your hair kept falling out in great globs."

"I actually thought I was going prematurely bald," Sam said trying to hold back a smile. He had hated his hair for that whole term of school, Krissy Douglas calling him a freak. He had a very misshapen head, looked ridiculous without hair.

"Sorry about that, by the way," Dean said quietly sagging into Sam even more, making the younger Winchester more and more nervous.

"How's about the time Dad had convinced you that he had sold the Impala," Sam said quickly hoping to get some kind of response from Dean. "Remember, you were fifteen, seven or eight days before your sixteenth birthday. You actually thought Dad would give you the Impala, get a new vehicle. When he pulled up in that truck, the Impala nowhere to be found, you were on the verge of tears."

"No I wasn't," Dean protested and Sam could almost see him pout.

"Oh really?" Sam said a small smile playing across his lips. "That was the first time I had ever seen you and Dad come even close to a fight. You were all like, 'What the hell, Old Man? You already sick of her?' and he's like, 'What the hell are you talking about.' And you very nearly whined…"

"I did not whine," Dean whined getting a bigger smile from Sam.

"You did, too. You whined, 'Where's the Impala? You didn't sell her, did you?'"

"And Dad was like, 'Quit bitching and get in the truck, Dean.' But he was smiling, one of those smiles he rarely wore." Sam could hear Dean's smile on his face, knew his brother was seeing the memory clearly. "He told me that the Impala would be kept at Jim's until I got my license."

"Which hasn't had your real name on it since you were eighteen," Sam muttered under his breath.

"I remember my first alias," Dean said sounding almost fond of the memory. "I was David Lee Roth. That was great. Dad even let me pretend I was twenty-one. Was only ever carded once…"

"Really? Because that store clerk, a few weeks back, carded you. She must have thought you were a good for nothing teenager."

"I didn't think you saw that," Dean said sounding slightly embarrassed. He was still leaning into Sam more than the younger Winchester would have liked, but at least he was managing to move on his own. Even if he was stumbling over his own feet.

"Oh, I saw it," Sam said smiling.

"Well, she was like ninety so it doesn't count. Everyone looks like a teenager to her eyes," Dean defended himself. He always prided himself on looking older than he was. Sam understood that when Dean was sixteen and capable of getting a beer without-most of the time-getting carded. But now, when he was closer to thirty than twenty, he really was baffled. _I will never fully understand you, Dean._

Sam checked his watch, realizing they had been in the woods for a good six hours. Six hours and still they weren't any closer to finding a way out. That was just depressing. They were supposed to be good trackers-Dean better than Sam by far-why was it taking forever to get out.

"That's just it, Sammy," Dean's voice cut into the younger Winchester's thoughts. "It's because I'm not helping." Sam wasn't even aware he had spoken out loud. _So much for paying attention_, Sam thought now knowing exactly how he had fallen in that hole.

"Well, these woods can't be that vast. We've got to be close to the exit," Sam commented looking around for any sign of a road.

"Do you honestly think Nina would have been that nice? You know, dropping us a few miles from the exit? She's insane."

"Yeah, maybe you're…" Sam cut off, a sharp pain erupting through his arm. He turned his head, glancing at his shoulder, spotting a knife protruding from his back. _Shit,_ he thought as a few more blades flew at them. Before Sam could run he felt his brother sag completely into him, doing the one thing Sam tried to prevent. _Mega shit_, he thought knowing he was royally fucked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Nope, not mine…**

_**Supernatural**_

"Um…" Josh started getting to his feet. He hated being the center of attention; it always made his paranoia spike up tenfold. He liked to be the silent observer, sitting quietly in the back. Now, he had two sets of eyes on him, both begging for answers.

"Nina Horton is… was a hunter," Josh started again, beginning to pace back and forth. He was wringing his hands, keeping his dark blue eyes glued to the floor.

"What do you mean 'was,'" Bobby asked curiously.

"Well, she was raised as a hunter by her mother. If you thought John was hard on his boys, then you never met Nina's mother: Abigail. She was worse than a drill sergeant and she put Nina, her sister, and her brother through hell. Nina put up with it until she turned sixteen and that's when her mother mysteriously disappeared…"

"Wait, are you saying Nina killed her mother," Jefferson questioned sliding to the edge of his chair.

"That's what I'm figuring, but no one could ever prove it. What I'm thinking, and I got the witness to prove it, is Nina Horton wants to escape her past and by doing that…"

"…she's eliminating the one thing that made it crap," Bobby finished for Joshua, pulling his cap off and running his hand through his hair. "Who's this witness?"

"Kurt Bishop," Josh replied sitting back on the bed.

"Who?"

"He was the only one who ever survived Nina's game," Joshua replied putting his clasped hands in his lap. "He was found in a ditch, on the side of the road, half dead. When he woke up in the hospital, he claimed amnesia about what happened. When really, he didn't want to go into details about being hunted by a 'fallen' hunter."

"But he shared his story with you," Jefferson asked skeptically.

"Why do you always do that," Josh snapped glaring into his brother's pale blue eyes.

"Do what," Jeff asked innocently.

"Question everything I say?"

"I do not."

"You do, too." Josh was on his feet, fists clenched. Jeff stood up, too, silently challenging his little brother to take a swing.

"Guys, knock it off," Bobby snapped and both sat down, with a quiet apology, embarrassment written across their faces. "So, when did you talk to this Bishop guy?" Bobby turned to the younger Michaels brother, waiting for an answer.

"I put the word out when Jeff told me about the murder case turned shape shifter hunt," Josh replied sliding back into his stride like nothing happened. Jeff was incapable of doing that; he had to be fighting to make his day worthwhile.

"And?"

"Bishop called me yesterday," Joshua said slowly twiddling his thumbs. "He told me that it sounded exactly like the case he was on, about a year ago. He was hunting, what he suspected, vampires. A few bodies were found, necks full of teeth marks, blood drained. He decided to check it out, took his buddy Taylor Jackson…"

"One of the missing hunters," Jefferson muttered getting a glare from his brother and a finger snap from Bobby to shut him up.

"So, he and Jackson get to town, but before they could see the bodies this van pulls into the parking lot of their motel, a huge dude kicks the door in, and they are hog-tied, drugged, and thrown in the back on the van."

"Neither one put up a fight," Jeff asked crossing his arms across his chest.

"They tried, but whoever attacked them was ruthless, that and some girl jumped on Bishop's back and covered his face with a chloroform covered cloth. The last thing he remembered seeing was his buddy's head getting slammed into the TV stand. He woke up, a few hours later, in the middle of the woods. Taylor was with him until the end of the first day; his friend got shot right in the chest. The bullet pierced his heart, killed him instantly."

"This Nina girl is a cold blooded killer," Bobby commented pacing the path Joshua had started a while ago.

"That and she has hunter skills," Jefferson muttered running a hand across his face.

"Major hunting skills," Josh agreed. He then added, "And her big brother: Ethan Horton."

"How do you know that?" Jeff asked trying to keep all emotion but curiosity from his voice.

"This," Josh retorted and pulled out a couple pictures. He handed them to Bobby, watching the older hunters look at them. They were high school pictures of Nina, Ethan, and their older sister Alison. Josh had glanced at them briefly, taking in the contents in seconds. Sam may have had a good memory, but Josh could outwit him any day. He could recall every single detail of the pictures with perfect clarity. He knew that each sibling had blond hair; Ethan's and Alison's darker than their sister's. The older two had green eyes, while Nina had bluish-gray. All three were pale, all three wore matching fake smiles, but Nina had a coldness in her eyes that most kids, her age, never had. It didn't match her sister's warm eyes or her brother's twinkling, joke filled gaze that reminded Josh of Dean. Bobby was right; Nina was a cold blooded killer.

"Bishop emailed me those pictures; it seems he was doing his own research on the Horton family. When he found out what Nina's last name was he dug up anything he could."

"I'm assuming the bleach blonde is Nina," Bobby muttered handing the pictures to Jefferson.

"Yeah, how…?

"Just something in her eyes," the older hunter verified, getting a nod from Josh; Bobby saw exactly what he did.

"I think she's kinda hot," Jefferson chimed in getting an eye roll from both Bobby and Josh. Neither one needed to be rocket scientists to know where Dean got his womanizing skills. For twenty years of his life the older Winchester had hung out with Jefferson practically every time they were together. John was never happy about that; especially when Jefferson 'borrowed' Dean and played the 'single father' card in public.

"It doesn't matter what she looks like," Bobby snapped. "As long as she has Johnny's boys she is an enemy of ours. And what do we do with enemies?"

"We kill them," Jefferson muttered laying the pictures on the table.

"Right. Human or not she's not gonna stop killing hunters until _she_ is stopped."

"Which means we're camping, aren't we," Jeff murmured making Josh smile. Joshua loved camping; he used to con Dean and Sam into camping with him. It was funny when the boys were younger, and Jeff didn't have to go. Now, it was just plain depressing. Plus, every camping trip the Michaels boys went on, together, always ended up with them in a fist fight. Always have, always will.

"I swear these two are going to be kissing my ass for the next seventy years," Jeff commented as he stood up.

"Be sure to clean it first," Josh muttered and raced out of the room before his brother really comprehended what he said. Before the door closed behind the younger Michaels, he heard his brother yell, "HEY!"

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

The first time he resurfaced from unconsciousness, he was sure he had been dropped into a Charlie Brown cartoon. Someone was leaning over him, speaking, but all he heard was, "Waa Waa, Waa, Waa," or something like that. He always hated Charlie Brown, that stupid kite eating tree sucked balls and that Lucy bitch should have been punched a long time ago. And was it a little strange that a children's cartoon had a stalker in it? Sally was always around that little kid with the blanket. Dean always expected the little blonde to attack Linus and lock him in the Brown cellar, keeping him as her pet. But above everyone else, he especially hated that Schroeder dude. Just because the dude played a piano doesn't mean he was the god of all instruments. The guitar is a hell of a lot cooler. _I hate Charlie Brown_, Dean though as darkness took him over.

He woke up a second time, warmer than the first. Really warm. Almost like he was sitting in a fire. _Ah crap, _he thought, _I've died and gone to Hell. The gods or whatever heard that Dad went to Hell for me and won't allow me passage to Heaven or something. Fuck, man Sammy is gonna be pissed._ Speaking of Sam, Dean was pretty sure he heard his brother's voice. _Probably some freaking demon screwing with me…_

"…singe…blood..." Dean took in before a heat worse than the fire tore through his side. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was still alive. Pain wasn't this bad in Hell, or maybe it was. He wanted to scream, but darkness over took him before his body could follow the command his brain delivered.

Dean came to a third time, maybe a few minutes after the burning pain in his side, to feel a second pain in his leg. He couldn't be sure, he still felt like he was on fire, but he thought he felt blood dripping down his leg. _What the hell's going on_, his thoughts demanded. _Fuck, stop, stop, stop_. The pain was worse than the searing heat in his side, almost like something was digging around his flesh. _Please make it stop,_ he begged and blacked out again.

He opened his eyes, finally aware of his surroundings. There was no weird ass Charlie Brown characters standing over him, no demons wanting his head on a spike, nothing like that. It was dark, which made Dean seriously wonder how long he had been out. He was sure it was light out when he woke up the last time. Of course, he couldn't quite remember when that was either.

_Okay, Kid, think_, his dad's voice filled his head. _What's the last thing you remember?_ Dean racked his brain, trying to recall anything helpful. He remembered getting captured, waking up in the woods, and walking with Sam. That stupid booby-trap, the one he should have seen, came next. Followed by the bullets… the bullets.

_Oh my God, I was fucking shot_, he thought as the pain made itself known. _Holy crap and a half. Note to self: never get shot again._

_If Sammy was with you,_ his dad's voice interrupted his complaining,_ where is he? Where's your brother Dean? You didn't get him killed because you were too slow to stop a fricking bullet from hitting you?_ Quickly cutting out his mental scolding-that was all he needed, his father bitching at him from his own head-he tried to sit up. Problem was there was something restraining him.

He tried to roll out of the restraints, wondering who in their right mind would go to the trouble of keeping him in one spot, when he realized they weren't restraints. Someone had their arms around him.

_Oh my God, some is hugging me. Someone is_ frigging_ hugging me. And there's only one person, I know, who would do that shit. _He threw his elbow backwards, slamming the bone into his brother's chest.

Sam jerked awake, jumping to his feet. Once free, Dean rolled onto his back in time to see his brother's eyes rake across the ground, a knife clutched in his hand, looking for an invisible attacker.

"Relax, it was me," Dean said in a hoarse voice. _My God am I thirsty_, he thought not realizing until now how dry his throat was.

"You scared the crap out of me," Sam hissed lowering himself to the ground.

"You were hugging me," Dean pointed out trying and failing to sit up. He felt as weak as a newborn lamb, which really didn't bode well for him. He was a hunter; there was no time for weakness.

"You lost a lot of blood, stay still," Sam scolded keeping a restraining hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Fine," Dean snapped after he failed to shake the hand off twice. The two brothers were quiet for a second, and then Dean said, "Why the hell were you hugging me?"

"I wasn't hugging you," Sam scoffed looking into the flames of a fire Dean had not noticed before. The warmth felt pretty good on his cool body. _Wait cool_…_ last time I was awake,_ his thoughts started as a very vague memory hit him_, I was burning up._

"You broke my fever didn't you," the older Winchester asked avoiding his brother's eye.

"I didn't know what else to do. If I'd have let it keep rising, you would probably be dead. Besides, you were pretty out of it."

"How out of it?"

"At one point you told me you hated Charlie Brown. You went on this tangent about stalkers and Lucy being a bitch and Sally locking Linus up in her basement and the kite eating tree. And then you started in on Schroeder…"

"I do hate Charlie Brown," Dean muttered averting his eyes.

"Yeah, I know, but it wasn't his fault you got shot." Sam was quiet for a moment, chewing on his lip in thought, before he said, "I thought you were never going to wake up after I singed your blood vessels."

"What does that mean?"

"The way you were screaming, it was like I was killing you."

"Sorry," Dean muttered trying to wipe the worried look off his brother's face.

"Don't apologize," Sam responded keeping his eyes locked on the ground. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Speaking of cauterizing things, how the hell did you manage that?"

"This," Sam replied holding up the knife Dean noticed earlier. Wondering where his brother got it, the older Winchester opened his mouth but Sam interrupted the unspoken question with the correct answer, "We ran into another one of Nina's obstacles."

"She threw knives," Dean exclaimed sitting up so fast the woods swam in and out of focus. Sam pushed him back down, telling him to breathe through it. Taking a few deep breaths, Dean hissed, "When were you planning on telling me this?"

"I just did, if that helps," Sam muttered.

"Are you okay? Did any of them hit you?"

"No," Sam replied quickly. A little too quickly in Dean's opinion.

"No, huh?" Dean asked skeptically.

"No, I'm fine," Sam said sounding a tad more convincing then the first time.

"Okay, if you say you are." _I'll just wait until your ass passes out before I yell at you, you frigging liar_, Dean tacked on hoping that didn't really happen. He wasn't sure he could carry Sam at all, barely could when he was actually healthy. He would just have to keep an eye on Sam and make sure his condition didn't deteriorate.

"So, how long was I out," Dean asked changing the subject. Sam breathed a quiet sigh of relief, one Dean caught without a problem, and said, "Seven hours, on and off. This is the most coherent you've been."

"So, Charlie Brown bashing and screaming aside, what else did I say?"

"Um…" the lip biting again. He only ever did that when he didn't want to share something. Or was worried about something. Or… _Screw it; he does it for all occasions_.

"Just tell me," Dean said wearily. He was tired, which sucked ass because he had just woken up, and he wasn't in the mood to sit there and wait for Sam's brain to wage the war between telling him or not.

"A couple times you were convinced you were in Hell," Sam muttered finding the fire to be the most interesting thing in the world. "You said that since Dad sold his soul to save you, it was only fair you go to Hell, too."

"Oh, well at least I had a legitimate reason," Dean muttered keeping all emotion out of his voice. He didn't want to have to deal with that now. Maybe when he was out of the woods, full of beer, and unable to remember said conversation. But now, he was just tired.

Sam sighed, an eye roll definitely following it, and mumbled, "We've gotta get out of here."

"Can we do it later, or tomorrow? I'm kinda tired." Dean closed his eyes, letting the fire warm his face. He turned onto his side, keeping his back to his brother.

"Yeah, get some sleep. I'll wake you if anything happens."

Silence enveloped both brothers, the sound of the forest taking over. As much as Dean wanted to go to sleep, he just couldn't. Of course he felt guilty about their dad's death, he had told Sam that during his road side confession, but he never thought his own words would betray him like that.

Sometimes he did wonder if he was going to go to Hell, just because John sold his soul. Did God (if he really existed) send people to Hell for the deals others have made? Of course, even if he didn't go to Hell for that, any number of things could give him a one way ticket. Like lying, cheating, stealing, subterfuge, grave desecration (helping people or not he was technically unburying someone, someone who was probably a good person who just went corrupt with so many years of being alone). _Jeez, I'm frigging turning into Sam_, he thought stifling anymore sentimental mumbo jumbo.

A shiver rippled through him as a light breeze picked up. He tried to move closer to the fire, but any sudden movements made his side protest. He bit his lip before he could let loose any whimpers or cries of pain. He was fine, he really was. _Yeah, keep telling yourself that._

Pulling his and Sam's jackets closer to him, he hoped the wind would die down. That was all he needed, to get sick with two bullet wounds already in play. _How Sam can tolerate the cold is beyond me_, Dean thought.

The fire warm on his face, his brothering breathing like a lullaby, he slowly drifted off to sleep again.

_**SUPERNATRUAL**_

Once Sam was sure Dean was asleep, the deep breathing his only indication, Sam unzipped his sweatshirt and pulled it off. He let out a very quiet whimper of pain, the sudden movement pulling on his wound. He set the hoodie amongst the leaves and checked over the wound using the fire.

He would have done it sooner, but outrunning an array of flying knives, saving Dean, and keeping him alive were pretty much higher up there on his priority list. The wound was deep, six or seven inches at the most. Lucky for him, though, it didn't hit anything vital. The bleeding had stopped awhile ago, which was good. Neither one needed anymore problems, especially Sam losing as much blood as Dean. If he passed out Dean was screwed and there was no way he was putting his brother thorough that.

He wondered just how much strain he could put on the wound before it began bleeding again. If he had to carry Dean again, he had to be sure he wasn't about to open the wound up further. It was already a bitch to get his brother here. Fifteen minutes of running with 174 pounds added and a bum arm were not ways Sam wanted to spend his time.

He pulled his sweatshirt back on as another breeze filled the air. He shivered just as Dean shivered. It was only a matter of time before one of their injuries got infected and no amount of, what Dean would call, 'hugging' would break that fever. A lot of antibiotics-which were in their first aid kit conveniently sitting under his bed back at the motel-rest, and peroxide, would be the only thing that would help them. It was times like these that Sam really wished they had just skipped this hunt.

A stick snapped close by, peaking Sam's senses tenfold. As much as he'd rather have Dean sleep, Sam half hoped Dean would have woken up with the snap. Unfortunately, his brother was out and heard nothing.

Using the tree to stand up, getting his knife out of his hoodie pocket, Sam started looking back and forth for the new arriver. He turned his back on Dean for a second, looking around the tree. There was no one, and as he made to turn around someone started clapping. Two claps, but enough to make him whip around. Someone was crouched next to Dean. Sam's stomach clenched in worry for his defenseless brother.

"I am actually impressed, Sam," the girl said, her voice familiar from the night before. Nina had decided to pay them another visit. Before Sam could attack her, she produced Dean's colt and held it to his brother's head.

"I wouldn't," she said pulling the hammer back. "I won't hesitate to kill him." Sighing, knowing his brother's life was more important-no matter how much Dean would protest-than getting revenge he put the knife back in his pocket.

"Very good, Sammy," Nina said lowering the gun to her side. "As I was saying, you have impressed me. Both of you are hurt, both of you are tired and hungry, yet you keep on fighting. Of course, you're Winchesters and you guys are known for your stubbornness. That and your good looks." She ran a hand across Dean's cheek, making his brother shiver.

"Leave him alone," Sam snarled clenching his fists at his side.

"You are in no position to be giving orders, Winchester," Nina responded quietly stroking his brother's forehead with the gun she held. Sam had many retorts he wanted to deliver, but bit his tongue as the thought of Dean, dead-bullet through the brain-hit him.

"I just wanted to congratulate you on a good first day. Here's hoping tomorrow will bring you the same good luck." Another twig snapped, somewhere behind Sam. He turned around, but there was nothing or nobody there. He spun back around to see Dean by himself. Nina was gone.

He raced forward, falling to his knees next to his brother. A quick inspection showed him that Nina didn't hurt him in any way, other than the obvious. It also woke Dean up.

"What the hell are you doing," his brother asked swatting his hands away from his face.

"Nina was here," Sam replied sitting back on his heels. His eyes flicked back and forth seeing nothing but trees and shadows. Nina was fast, Sam really hated admitting it. Either she knew the woods really well, or she was just really good at covering her tracks. Or the female version of The Flash and with their luck that was exactly what she was. _Oh please don't let that be the case_, he thought still looking for Nina.

"What'd she want? Where is she?" Dean sat up, hissing in pain as the sudden movement pulled on his side.

"Stay still," Sam ordered flashing his brother a worried look. He sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face, and continued, "I have no idea where she went, but I do know why she was here. She wanted to, and these are her words not mine, 'congratulate' us for a 'successful' good day."

"Successful," Dean scoffed. "How the hell is getting shot twice successful?"

"We're not dead," Sam responded giving his brother a ghost of a smile and a shrug.

"No, but Nina will be when we find her, and don't give me that 'she's human, we can't hurt her' crap. She has tried to kill us on several occasions…"

"That rope trap wouldn't have killed us," Sam protested.

"But the bullets could have, the knives could have, and that spike trap you fell into definitely could have."

"Yeah, but the knives also helped you. You would have bled to death if…"

"My wounds could still get infected. And-in case you have forgotten the fifty million or so freaking infections we have gotten over the years-that could very well kill me…" Sam knew Dean wanted to add more, but he cut off putting a hand to his side wound. He went pale, making Sam's worry peak up to a billion and one.

"Dean?"

Instead of answering, Dean pulled his hand away from the wound. His hand was covered in blood, the liquid dripping between his fingertips. Sam hurriedly pressed both his hand and Dean's to the wound as his brother laid back.

"Stop holding my hand," Dean whined putting his left arm over his eyes.

"Stop being an irritable ass," Sam replied pressing harder on the wound. He had to cauterize the blood vessels again; he just wasn't sure how much Dean would like that.

"Just do it," his brother muttered. When Sam was younger he believed his brother could read minds. Dean seemed to always know what Sam wanted or needed without the youngest Winchester saying a word. This time was no different and old doubts started creeping back into Sam's mind. Maybe Dean could really read his thoughts.

"Either do it or I'll do it myself," Dean's voice made Sam jump. He hadn't realized he had been sitting on his heels, still staring at his brother, still pressing down on his bleeding wound. He quickly snatched the fallen knife off the ground and crawled over to the fire.

"You might want to put more wood on that fire," Dean commented staring at the dying flames.

"I'm not stupid," Sam snapped letting the flames dance around the knife's blade.

"I never said you were. It's cold and I don't want the fire going out before morning…"

"Thanks Dad." The words just slipped out of Sam's mouth. Instead of giving his brother a smart ass reply, Dean went silent. Sam turned his head, trying to read Dean's expression, but his brother was just too good at masking his emotions. He turned back to the fire, watching the flames.

An owl hooted somewhere, a light breeze rustled some leaves, but neither of the brothers spoke. When the knife's tip finally went orange, Sam turned around and shuffled back over to his brother.

"Move your hand," he said seconds before Dean complied. "Ready?"

"Just do it." As much as Dean braced himself for the pain it was no match for the burning knife sticking to his flesh. The sound of a sizzle mingled with the yelp of pain that exploded from between Dean's lips. The scream cut off suddenly, Dean's whole body going limp.

Sam set the knife on a nearby rock, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze and said, "We now know the levels of pain you can and cannot take." He sat back on the ground, pulling his knees to his chest. He wrapped his right arm around his legs, not taking the chance with moving his left. He kept his eyes on his brother, intending to make sure nothing else happened to him. A gentle zephyr blew past his face, some of his hair falling into his eyes. Instead of brushing the hair aside, he left it where it was. He just kept his eyes glued to his brother, making sure he stayed right there.


	6. Chapter 6

**I still don't own the recognizable characters. Damn…**

"…been a big baby!"

"Have not!"

"Yes, you have. Whining about spending one night in the fricking woods."

"There was a raccoon asleep on my legs. I could catch rabies."

"Oh, cry me a frigging river."

"Fine, and then I'll push you into it."

It was the first time Bobby had ever wanted to strangle the Winchesters. There he was, asleep in his own house and those two have to get into, yet, another one of their stupid fights. Now he had to get up from his bed of leaves… Leaves? Wait, who filled his bed with leaves? And since when did his house smell like earth? Also, why did Dean's and Sam's voices sound slightly off? What the hell was going on?

He opened his eyes, the sunlight nearly blinding him. Of course he was in the middle of the woods, they had camped out. He sat up, watching as Jeff and Josh, not Dean and Sam, started circling each other like rabid wolves.

Bobby scrambled to his feet, rushing forward before the fists started to fly. He pushed Jeff into a tree and Josh into a bush. Eyes flicking back and forth between the two brothers he said, "What the hell is the matter with you two?"

"He started it," Josh said nodding toward his brother.

"Of course I did," Jeff retorted sarcastically. "There's no way the little brother could start any of it." Bobby rolled his eyes, his mind flashing back to another set of siblings.

"Well, I'm finishing it. We are out here for a reason. Dean and Sam have been captured. They could be hurt, bleeding, (God forbid) dead, and all you two care about is getting into some piss poor fist fight. Grow up or so help me you two won't see next week." With those words hanging in the air, he started toward the smoking fire pit. He kicked dirt on it to make sure it was completely out and began walking deeper into the woods.

"You two idgits coming, or are you gonna just stand there and enjoy the scenery," Bobby called over his shoulder. After a few seconds he heard someone pick up the only bag they brought and two sets of footsteps begin to follow him.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Bobby just waiting for one of the Michaels brothers to say something. Unlike Sam and Dean, who can actual go more than fifteen minutes without an argument, Jeff and Josh weren't so lucky. Bobby suspected it was the age difference. Their mother disagrees. Addy Michaels, never the marital type, had had two kids with two different guys. She believed that Jefferson always resented his little brother for breaking up his parents. Also, that Joshua's dad was more involved in his life than Jeff's had been. Who knew the real reason and Bobby really wasn't in the mood to be dropped into a Soap Opera, so he kept his nose out of the Michaels' business. The less he knew the better. Besides, being part of the Winchester family (Bobby's philosophy was "_family don't end with blood_") was a full time gig that didn't need distractions.

Coming across a fork made Bobby's stomach drop. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, there was always a problem. He did a quick calculation, trying to figure out how to split up the teams. He knew Josh loved camping, but wouldn't go on alone. He also knew that sending Josh and Jeff out on their own could end in one of their deaths and Addy hounding his ass for the next hundred years. So, taking a deep breath he turned around and said, "Josh and I will go left, Jeff go right." He took the bag from Jeff, digging inside for his radios.

He found them at the bottom amongst a first aid kit, a couple flare guns, and some other weapons. He handed one to Jeff, pocketing the other. He pulled out a flare gun and a pistol and shoved the bag at Jefferson.

"You got any matches on you," Bobby questioned curiously.

"Why? You actually expect me to spend another…" Bobby glared at the younger hunter, causing Jefferson to raise his hands and say, "I have a lighter."

"Good, you find anything call us. You get into trouble, call us. You…"

"Singer, I am a forty-seven year old man. I think I know all this."

"Really? Just out of curiosity," Josh started crossing his arms, "who was the one who ended up half torn up by a Wendigo because they were too arrogant to call for help?"

"So help me Joshua…" Jeff started, but Bobby rushed his younger brother down their path before he could finish his sentence.

"Keep in touch, Michaels," Bobby called.

"I'm not four," was the reply. Or that's what Bobby thought he heard. Shaking his head, Bobby followed Josh behind a stretch of trees, Jeff disappearing from view.

"So, what the hell was that fight about?" the older hunter asked scratching the back of his head.

"Jeff being Jeff," Joshua replied as his dark blue eyes flicked back and forth with every noise. As much as the younger hunter loved camping, the wilderness still freaked the hell out of him. So many things could occur, so many accidents. Bobby was pretty sure that if no one was with Josh he wouldn't even have bothered coming out here. It was one of the reasons he would manipulate Dean and Sam into camping with him when they were younger. That and Caleb telling him that only hermits stuck to their houses, too afraid of the world. If there was one thing Josh was really afraid of, it was isolation. He had to be around people, even if he didn't trust them. It was just a part of his weird psyche.

"Which means?"

"He woke up to find this huge, and I mean huge, raccoon draped across his legs. He made this sound, one I was actually surprised you didn't hear, and I came running."

"Where were you?"

"I had a personal problem that had to be dealt with." In other words, Josh was behind a tree taking a piss. "Anyway, he made this noise that was a cross between a yelp and a scream, I came running, and arrived just in time to see this raccoon tear past me looking scared. So, I merely commented, 'Jeffy, you found a new pet?' and he's all like, 'Rabies! That thing could have rabies.'" The voice Josh gave his brother was spot on. Josh was always good at doing voices, and it didn't hurt that him and Jeff almost sounded exactly alike.

"And that's when I called him a baby. You know the rest."

"You know I thought you were Johnny's boys when I first heard the fight," Bobby commented and Josh looked over his shoulder at the older hunter.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just insulted Dean and Sam," Josh retorted with a small smirk on his face. Bobby smiled back, rolling his eyes. He knew for a fact, after the number of times both Winchester boys had been compared to Jefferson and Joshua, that John's boys would have given Bobby hell for that comment. They always informed Bobby, even when they were younger, that they were their own person and no amount of comparing them to older, less handsome (Dean's comment not Sam's) hunters would make that so. Dean even went as far as to say that, '_It would just give said older, less handsome hunters a false sense of hope that they would even come close to looking like me_.' to which Jeff always replied, '_Keep telling yourself that, Small Fry.'_

As Bobby was brought back to reality, his smile slowly slipping from his face, he couldn't help but send up a silent prayer that he would get to hear that exchange again. That he'd at least get to see the two boys he considered sons, again. As much as he didn't believe in the great beyond, Jim had always told him believing in faith and religion was the only good thing about the supernatural, he still felt certain that God-real or not-heard him. And he felt a little bit more confident that they would find his friend's boys. Because, as Jim would say, '_Gotta have faith before you can have anything else_.'

_**SUPENATURAL**_

Something peed on him; he could feel the warm liquid on his exposed flesh. He pulled himself up, a small groan of pain escaping his lips, and looked at his arm. His coat was definitely damp, and… he smelt the sleeve and nearly gagged. Yep, something peed on him. Lucky for him, it was actually Sam's jacket. His was spared the grossness of animal pee. Except on his wrist which he would have to except as a small sacrifice. Plus, it was easier to wash his skin then it was to wash a jacket.

Dean peeled Sam's jacket off, laying it on the ground. He so totally wanted to see his brother's face when he shared the news that his jacket was peed on. He even turned his head to inform his brother that his jacket had, in fact, been used as a toilet by some kind of animal, but found that he was very much alone.

"Sam," Dean called just hoping his brother had went around the corner to take a piss. _Maybe _he_ peed on me,_ Dean thought in disgust. Then he figured,_ why the hell would Sam pee on his own jacket. God Dean, you are about sixteen fries shy of a happy meal._

He took a look around the area, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother's lanky form, but Sam was just nowhere to be found. In fact, upon closer inspection of the area, Dean realized he was in a totally different location from the night before. Someone had moved him, quite possibly the 'associate' Nina had mentioned the night she kidnapped him and Sam. The same douche bag that knocked Dean out with the chloroform.

Deciding to seek revenge on Nina and her monkey later, Dean dragged himself over to a tree and pulled himself into a standing position. The movements pulled on both his side and leg wounds, but he bit his lip and sucked it up. He had to find Sam, and make sure he was okay before his revenge plan could go into effect. But there were several problems with both his plans that couldn't quite be ignored.

One: Finding Sam resulted in walking and he wasn't sure how far he could walk on his shaking leg. His luck the frigging thing would give out on him before he could take six steps. Two: He was pretty sure finding Sam would take more than six steps and collapsing would just lessen his chances of locating his lost brother. Three: He felt a little lightheaded from all the blood loss and not eating anything for two days and that could be problematic in his 'Let's not pass out' campaign. Four: Just thinking of food made his stomach growl and he really wished Nina would have dropped them conveniently next to a McDonald's or Wendy's. Hell, even a Waffle House even if he wasn't a huge fan of the food.

Thinking of his distaste for any Waffle House had Sam's voice filling his head, "_You don't like some place's food? You? The man who, when he was fourteen, claimed that when he turned eighteen he would travel the US and eat at every fast food establishment he came across. What did you call it, again...?"_

_ "The Tour de Food_," Dean whispered, with a smile, answering his phantom brother's voice. In reality, he knew that was just the wishful thinking of an awkward teenager. Not only would he not be able to afford anything like that, he was pretty sure even his garbage disposal of a stomach couldn't handle that. _I'm such a light-weight_, he thought with an eye roll.

Realization, that he had been standing in the same spot for longer than necessary, hit when his leg started to tremble violently. He had to start moving, standing still would probably only result in him having to sit against the tree hoping someone would come along.

"Okay, Dean, you can do this," he softly encouraged himself and pushed off the tree. The first few steps were pure hell. White hot pain spread throughout his wounded appendage causing him to hiss in pain. After fifteen steps and collecting Sam's jacket off the ground, the pain had dulled to just an annoying sting-or that's what Dean kept repeating over and over in his head.

He limped away from the sun, hoping he was going in the right direction. That was all he needed, to be going in the opposite direction Sam was in. _Worrying about it won't help much either, moron_, he chastised himself.

After about ten minutes of walking, Dean had to lean against a tree to rest. His leg was shaking worse than ever and if he didn't know better it was bleeding again. He looked down at the wound-Sam's belt still tightly wrapped above it-and noticed that his jeans were covered in old and new blood. _These jeans are totally done for,_ he thought not really wanting to take the time to clean them. Blood took forever to get out of clothes, most of the time it didn't even come out. Many articles of clothing, from many hunters, had to be burnt to cover up blood trails.

Something cracked around him, causing him to whip around. Someone was watching him, he could tell. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a chill crept up his spine. He closed his eyes, opening his other senses.

There were several birds chirping around him, a slight breeze shifted some leaves across the ground. He heard something chatter from above, an acorn fall from a tree, and then another snap. His eyes flew open. He turned his head both ways, still not seeing anything. Then the snapping became louder, more frequent, and thundering footsteps came rapidly toward him.

Gritting his teeth, knowing he was in no condition to fight, he pushed off the tree and began sprinting away from the assailant. He didn't spare a second glance at the person pursuing him but sped up as the footsteps got closer. His leg was on fire, screaming at him to slow down-or stop. Unable to do neither, he just silently begged his wound to suck it up.

He saw a forked path ahead, giving him an idea. He pushed himself harder, running at speeds he didn't even believe he could hit-even when he wasn't wounded-and reached the turn in record time. He barely made the turn when he slammed into someone else.

It was like being hit, head on, by a car. He began to fall, and before he could stop it his right side slammed into the ground. Pain erupted through his body, white hot pain, and everything went black.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

**Earlier…**

Sam woke to the sound of chattering. He opened his eyes to see a squirrel standing next to his head. He let out a small cry of surprise, pouncing to his feet. The squirrel's eyes widened and dashed up a tree.

Holding his chest, his heart going fifty miles above its normal amount of beats, Sam let lose a small chuckle. He walked toward the slowly smoking fire, kicking dirt on it to make sure it was definitely out, and turned to wake Dean; except, Dean was gone.

"Dean," Sam called walking toward a close-by tree. Instead of finding his brother taking a leak, telling Sam to, _"Go away before I piss on your shoes_," Sam found no one. "Dean," he called again, hoping his brother was just waiting to scare him. It was something Dean did when they were kids, hid behind a tree and jumped out when Sam wasn't looking. But that would mean Sam had luck, which he didn't. Dean was just gone.

He fell onto a rock, trying to figure out what happened. He had been watching Dean sleep, occasionally putting wood on the fire, and must have fallen asleep sometime before dawn. _Nina must have had her 'friend' move Dean when I was asleep._

Just thinking of Nina had Sam digging in his sweatshirt pockets. His knife was gone. Hoping he had just left it over by the fire, he stood up and walked back to where he had woken up. After a thorough search of the area, he realized Nina hadn't just taken Dean.

"Damn it," he muttered letting his arms slam gently into his sides. The sudden movement had pain shooting through his shoulder. "Ah," he whispered nearly forgetting the hole in his in arm. Sam pulled his sweatshirt off, the shirt pulling on his wound, and looked at the hole.

Sometime in the night it had begun to bleed again. _Perfect_, Sam thought with a sigh. He had taken stock on the wound, noting that it was slightly puffier than before. _Of course, it wasn't like you could see it last night. It was dark, stupid_.

"Shut up," he quietly scoffed at his inner voice. Like always, it sounded like his brother. Even away from his brother, he still couldn't escape him. Even at Stanford; especially when a girl of Dean's type-or practically any girl for that matter-walked by. Thoughts Sam never believed he could come up with echoed through his head in Dean's voice. It was an interesting few years at Stanford even without his brother being physically there.

Figuring it was better to start searching for the real Dean instead of arguing with the Dean in his head Sam put his sweatshirt back on and began heading straight ahead. His plan was to walk twenty minutes in several directions, using his makeshift camping area as a reference point.

As he walked he let his mind wander to the countless camping trips him and Dean had been dragged on. There were the survival hikes John took them on. Their father going so far as to leading them, blindfolded, to a certain area of the forest and leaving them there to find their own way home. Sam always got them back in no time, tracking every move they made with his other four senses. Then there were the trips Caleb, Josh and Jeff, and Pastor Jim took them on. Caleb's were always just in his backyard with a small fire and horror stories. Pastor Jim's consisted of fishing and s'mores for the weekend in the Minnesota woods. The most fun, and Sam would never admit it to anyone (Dean either), had to be with the Michaels brothers.

Josh mostly took them camping, Jeff never the outdoorsy type, but occasionally Jefferson did tag along. And when he did it made each trip ten times more enjoyable. Each experience stood out in Sam's mind like a sore thumb; a very hilarious sore thumb. There was the time, when Sam was twelve, Jeff and Josh got into a fight over how to keep the fire going. A year later, Jeff and Josh started fighting over a hunt they both did years before. Josh swore they were hunting a shifter, Jeff was sure it was a werewolf. That one ended with Jefferson landing in the lake. When Sam was sixteen, after a few years ban on camping with Josh and Jeff from John, Jeff and Josh had argued over who was better at tracking. They split up in the woods, each taking a Winchester boy, and started trying to find the exit. Sam and Josh got out in about an hour. Dean and Jeff, the older too prideful to actually take the younger's advice, were lost for nearly three hours. When they both emerged from the brush, Jeff accused Josh of getting them lost. And that was the end of their camping trips with both Michaels' boys. John declared that the only way his boys could go camping with either brother was if they were separated, or another hunter went with. _And people wonder why Dean and I are so messed up,_ he thought with an eye roll.

Something whistled past his ear, knocking Sam out of his thoughts. He glanced over at the sound of a THUNK, spotting a silver arrow embedded into the closest tree. A second arrow flew past him, impaling itself into another tree. "Doesn't she get sick of shooting at us," Sam muttered as he took off running. He ran in a zigzag, John's voice filling his head saying, "_Never let yourself be an easy target. Keep the fuckers confused. Run in any direction but straight."_

Several more arrows slammed into several more trees, but none, thankfully, hit Sam. He was closing in on a sharp turn, a huge tree awaiting him. Two feet, one foot, six inches, and finally he made it; only to slam into someone else.

Sam had no time to determine who he hit; the only thing he was aware of was that he was falling. As he landed, he slammed his head into a protruding tree root and everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

**I still have no rights to these characters**

_**Supernatural**_

Jefferson Michaels hated everything to do with nature; it was as simple as that. He hated the smell, he hated how every fricking tree looked exactly the same, the fact that creepy ass animals lurked in the corner waiting for someone to show weakness so they can attack, and it didn't help that most creatures of the supernatural origin seemed to find forests to be the perfect frigging place to dwell: especially wendigos. Jeff hated wendigos.

But he was willing to put all hatreds of the woods aside if… "_Lost yet_," his brother's voice crackled from his shirt pocket. If Josh wasn't with him.

Pulling his radio out of his pocket, picturing his brother strung up by his balls over a pit of hungry lions, he replied, "Shut up."

"_Harsh words, Jeffy Poo_," Josh said, sounding like he was twelve, using the nickname their grandmother always used to use. Jefferson hated that name.

"Do you want me to shoot you," Jeff asked through clenched teeth.

"_Oh, you are so adorable when you're mad_," Josh cracked in a baby voice. He chuckled, switching back to his regular voice he said, "_Remember, Jeffy Poo, that the flare won't really be seen until it gets darker_."

Jeff pointed his pistol at the radio, miming shooting the crap out of his brother. Taking a deep breath, putting the gun back in his inside coat pocket, he put the radio back to his lips and said, "Where's Singer? I'm surprised he let little baby Joshua hold the radio. Did you throw a tantrum?"

"_Ha, ha_," Josh retorted sarcastically. "_Bobby went ahead to check out a path, told me to wait here_."

"He does realize you are in your thirties, right?"

"_You know, Singer. He has a hard time letting go of the past. He still sees us as the two kids he met so very long ago. Hell, he still sees Sam and Dean as the two little boys he met twenty-one years ago._"

"But don't you, too?" Jeff asked slowly, letting his eyes downcast to the ground out of habit. He hated sharing his emotions, even worse than the Winchester boys.

"_Yeah_," Josh replied quietly. "_Of course. Dean will always be that eight-year-old that always tried to sneak into the back of the Impala before John could leave for a hunt. And Sam, well Sammy will always be the little four year old that asked all those questions. You remember_?"

"I met them a few years before you, so I remember the Sam who only asked one question…"

"Can I have a juice box," Josh said with Jeff.

"Those were the only six words he uttered to me for an entire year."

"_Did you ever get him a juice box_?" Josh asked a smile in his voice.

"When we were at Pastor Jim's and Bobby's I did," Jeff replied. "Caleb always drank the entire pack the week before the boys came over and I wasn't the type to carry a cooler of Juicy Juice around."

"_Beer maybe, but juice for a poor, thirsty two-year-old… never_." There was silence for a quarter of a second, and then Josh asked, "_Why would he ask you for a juice box? He could have asked Bobby, Jim, Caleb, Dean, anyone. Why you_?"

"That's how I broke the ice with him, I offered him a juice. His trust was easier to get than his brother's. Small Fry rarely let his brother out of his sight when I was around for that first year. It took saving his father's life to get him to fully warm up to me."

They were silent for a couple of minutes, the sounds of the forest the only noise heard, and then Josh said, "_I hope we find them_."

"Yeah, me too," Jeff agreed as he started to pace back and forth.

"_Johnny would never forgive us if we lose his boys_."

"Then we won't," Jeff said hoping he sounded more optimistic than he felt. "We'll get them back, alive and whole." He continued to pace, getting closer and closer to a tree.

"_And if they've been hurt_?"

"Okay, then alive. Jeez, do you always have to be so thor…" Jeff cut off when he felt the ground give way from underneath his feet. The radio fell out of his hand, landing with a soft flop on the ground, and he let out a strangled cry of surprise. Down, down, down he fell landing on the hard earth below.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

"Jeff, Jefferson," Josh said trying to get a reply from his brother. "Jefferson this is not funny. Jeff, answer me."

"What's going on," Bobby asked coming around the corner.

"I was talking to Jeff and he just cut off," Josh replied still trying to get a hold of his brother.

"Of course he did, you probably pissed him off," Bobby replied taking his hat off to scratch his head.

"No, we weren't fighting. He might be in trouble…" Josh started to turn around, ready to go after his brother, but Bobby grabbed his shoulder and said, "Jefferson is a big boy, if he got into any trouble he can get out of it. And if he really is in trouble, he has a pistol and a flare gun. We'll know. Now, come on. We've gotta keep looking for the boys." Bobby began to walk away from Josh, heading the way he came. Instead of following, Joshua looked behind him. They had only been walking for almost an hour, Jeff wasn't too far away.

"Bobby," he called causing the older hunter to stop and turn around. He tossed the radio at the older man, Bobby snatching it out of thin air. "Keep going, I'm going after Jeff."

"Fine, but call when you find him." Bobby continued on his path, mumbling, "Damn idgit probably ended up tripping over a root into a lake." Josh smiled slightly and started running back the way they had come. Hoping beyond hope that Bobby was right.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

A raindrop hit his forehead, the cool liquid running down his face. Three more hit his face before he came to. His side was on fire; his leg throbbed with every heartbeat. He wasn't quite sure where he was, or how he had gotten there, but he heard someone talking close by.

"…do with them?" an unfamiliar male voice asked.

"Tie them up," a familiar female voice responded.

"Okay, sis, you're the boss." Footsteps approached Dean, thudding footsteps that sounded vaguely familiar, but before he could do anything about it his side gave a particularly nasty throb and he blacked out.

When he came to a second time, face pressed into the earthy floor of the forest, things were clearer. He remembered slamming into someone, someone built like a brick wall, someone who he suspected was his brother. Sometimes he really wished Sam was still seven and tiny, unable to knock him to the ground without even trying. Unable to knock him out without even trying; _that would be ideal,_ Dean thought trying to sit up.

There were, however, a few problems with his attempt. One: his hands were tied behind his back, unable to help him push himself up. Two: he was tied to someone else, someone whose hands were practically holding his, and someone who was most definitely Sam and obviously unconscious. Three: with his injuries and unconscious brother tied to him, weighing 180 at the most and all deadweight, he wasn't getting anywhere. So, he was stuck lying on the ground, sticks, leaves, and quite possibly animal droppings grinding into his face. _First animal pee, and now their feces. I am totally never camping again._

Dean tried to tap Sam's hand with his own, but moving his arm sent a sharp pain through his side and he groaned involuntarily. He stayed perfectly still, trying to get the pain to calm down. Somewhere above him, hovering like an annoying insect, a female voice said, "I think he's awake."

"Nina, you bitch," he said into the dirt. His voice was muffled, but he knew she knew what he said.

"Oh, Dean," Nina said as he was pulled up by another set of hands. The other party threw him into a rock, knocking the air out of him, causing Sam's head to flop to the side and land on his shoulder.

"Ethan, please be nice to our guests," Nina said slowly walking around to crouch next to the older Winchester. It was his first glimpse of her, shadows notwithstanding. She had sandy blond hair, her actual hair color. Her gray-blue eyes, accompanying a coldness Dean had never seen before in a human (Gordon he didn't count as fully human), were looking at him with both amusement and hatred. She was pale, looking almost like a drowning victim without the water and death, and she had a certain aura around her that clearly screamed she had no conscience and was proud of it. Never before had Dean felt so chary toward a girl, even intimidated. Even Cassie couldn't accomplish that.

But, like he always did in a dangerous and unpredictable situation, he hid his real emotions and jacked up the cockiness. "I hope your monkey gets his kicks while he still can because I will kill him when I get free."

"Did you hear him, Ethan? He actually thinks he has a chance against fighting you." Nina chuckled, almost like the idea was the most ludicrous thing she had ever heard. Dean wanted nothing more than to shove her head through a window (or a brick wall).

"Why don't you untie me and we'll find out."

"Oh, sweetie," Nina started grabbing his leg wound and squeezing. Dean bit his lip, trying to keep from screaming. Blinding, white hot pain erupted through his leg. Nina let his leg go, patting just below the knee, and said, "You probably can't stand long enough to even fight."

"Besides," Ethan started standing just to the side of Dean, just out of eyeshot, "running probably took a lot out of him. Ms. Winchester chose to flee instead of fight."

"Shut up," Dean snapped trying to see what the guy looked like. There was no doubt he was big, if the thundering footsteps that chased him through the woods were any indication. But size didn't always matter; he had taken bigger things down without breaking much of a sweat-or many bones.

Thudding footsteps approached him, a shovel like fist slamming into his face. Blood slowly started leaking from his nose, trickling across his lips. Dean sniffed, feeling blood start to run down his throat, and said, "Is that all you've got, Monkey?" A foot flew at the side of his head, but stopped when Nina screamed, "Ethan, calm down."

"Nina, untie him," Ethan exclaimed. A groan mixed in with his voice, almost inaudible. Dean felt Sam move, trying to get free.

"Relax, Sammy, we won't be going anywhere," Dean whispered to his brother, watching the two siblings argue over Ethan's actions. Ethan was, in fact, bigger than both Sam and Dean combined.

"What happened," Sam asked groggily.

"We ran into each other. My God, you could pass as a frigging speeding vehicle."

"Well, you aren't exactly a fluffy pillow," Sam retorted shaking his head to clear it.

"Good point," Dean replied as Nina and Ethan turned to them.

"Oh, look who's awake," Nina said sounding overjoyed that someone else had joined her game.

"I don't care about the younger one. It's the older one I want," Ethan snapped spraying spittle at Dean. He glared at Dean with a pair of cold green eyes, eyes that once held amusement; amusement that had been lost from murdering so many people.

"I don't roll that way, man," Dean said glaring up at the guy.

"Nina," Ethan snapped kicking at Dean, too far away to actually hit him.

"Fine, fine. I'll cut him loose for you," Nina said and walked toward Dean. She crouched next to his hands, extracting a knife from her pocket. She sliced through the rope and jumped up. She was gone from his side in seconds, her gargantuan brother filling the space she just vacated.

"Hi," Ethan said and hauled Dean to his feet. The sudden movement had his side screaming at him. Before Dean could start fighting, or even try to push his pain aside, he was thrown into a tree. The wind was knocked out of him as he landed on the ground.

"I really hate you," Ethan commented throwing a stray kick at Dean. He rolled to the side, pain shooting through his leg as he landed a few inches from Ethan's swinging leg.

"Hate is such a strong word," Dean said pulling himself painfully to his feet. He kept the palm of his hand on a tree, keeping himself from falling over. His right leg was shaking like crazy, pretty much telling him to sit or risk collapsing.

Instead of responding to the older Winchester's comment, Ethan threw his entire body weight into a tackle. Dean pushed himself from the tree, barely missing Ethan's attack. He tripped over his own feet, falling to the ground again.

"Klutzy, klutzy hunter," Nina commented as she leaned against a rock. She looked so entertained, obviously getting off somehow on the fight.

"Shut up," Dean snapped as he was pulled up by his arm. His appendage was pulled behind his back, Ethan kicking his knees out from under him. Easily the older Winchester fell to the ground, the impact jolting his already throbbing leg.

"I normally strangle my victims," Ethan stated pushing Dean onto his stomach. He squeezed harder on the hunter's wrist, the bone dangerously close to breaking. Pressing his knee into Dean's back, leaning over to get close to his ear, the bigger guy whispered, "But you deserve something much worse."

Dean felt the cold metal of a gun press into the back of his head. Above the two hunters, the sky opened up and began to pour. Almost like the gods (existing or not) were crying for Dean's safety.

"Any last words, Winchester," Ethan asked pulling the hammer back. Even if Dean had a response, he couldn't say anything. Ethan's knee was blocking any air he may or may not have had. Closing his eyes, waiting for the gunshot to fill the air and the bullet to pierce his skull, Dean couldn't help thinking, _Please don't send me to hell._

Then the weight left him, he was suddenly free. He scrambled to sit up, gazing over to see Sam and Ethan struggling to get up. The gun had fallen from Ethan's hand, lying a few inches from Dean. He tried to grab it, but another gunshot rang out causing him to pull his hand away quickly. He looked over at Nina, who was holding his own colt and glaring at him.

"You'd better help little brother," she snarled as her gaze fell onto Ethan and Sam. Dean's head snapped back to the two struggling hunters, his eyes widening when he saw what was going on.

Ethan had his hands wrapped around Sam's neck, his brother's face red. Dean scrambled to his feet, ignoring any and all pain, and rushed toward the pair. He tried to pry Ethan off his brother, but the blond hunter-without even looking up at Dean-threw one fist out and slammed it into Dean's stomach.

The older Winchester felt the air leave his lungs again. He caught himself before he could fall to his knees, and attempted, again, to rescue Sam from Ethan's strangling hold. Slowly, Sam began to turn blue. Dean barely touched Ethan's arm when he was hit again, harder than the first time, and flew back a few inches.

He slammed into a tree, the back of his head meeting the bark, and landed on his right side. Everything was going black, his vision overtaken by a sea of black dots. The last thing he heard before passing out were three pops followed by silence.


	8. Chapter 8

**Nope, still aren't mine…**

_**Supernatural**_

**Earlier**…

Joshua was sure he was going the right way. It wasn't exactly hard to track his brother's trail. Broken sticks were scattered across the ground, the occasional foot impressions revealing his brother's size eleven boots. But, the longer Josh tracked his brother, the less the signs began to show until there was close to nothing.

Expecting the signs to just vanish completely, that the mere ghost of his brother path would just disappear like a real spirit, he got a surprise when he tripped over something. Joshua fell to the ground, a rock stabbing into his hand. He pushed himself up, the pain in his hand a dull ache, and looked around. His eyes fell on a duffle bag, a very familiar duffle, sitting a few feet away.

Josh scrambled to his feet, walking over to Bobby's bag. The last time he saw the bag Bobby had shoved it into his brother's hands. If the bag was sitting by itself, obviously dropped by Jefferson in a silent form of protest, then Jeff had to be around somewhere.

"JEFF," Josh called walking away from the bag. He began to search behind trees, in bushes, anywhere his brother could be. "JEFFERSON," he screamed, his voice echoing around the woods and sending two blue jays into the air. The air was silent as Josh's echoes quieted, then a muffled voice called, "Joshua!"

"Jeff." Josh began walking toward, what he hoped, was the voice. "Jeff, where are you?"

"Down here," came the muffled reply.

"Where?"

"Here?"

"Where's here…" Josh cut off when he nearly fell into a hole. "Whoa," he said stepping back several inches.

"Down here," Jeff said slowly. Josh glanced into the hole, getting his first glimpse at his brother since they separated. His face was full of dirt, the left cheek baring a long scratch that was dripping blood. Jeff's left arm was pressed tightly to his stomach, almost like he was refraining from moving. Whether the arm was broken or something worse, Josh wasn't sure.

"What the hell happened," Josh asked his voice battling between worry and amusement. Worry for his brother's safety, amusement because he managed to fall in the hole in the first place. _Only Jefferson_, Josh thought trying to hide a smirk.

"Oh, you know, I always wanted to live underground," Jeff responded sarcastically getting a glare from his brother. He took a deep breath, letting it go in a frustrated huff, and said, "I'm figuring someone used to live out here. They probably dug a well, which is what I fell in, and covered it up. The wooden cover they used must have rotted."

"Did you break anything?" Josh asked still worried about how careful Jeff was with his arm.

"I sprained my ankle," Jeff replied slowly. "Had the air knocked out of me, bruised the crap out of my shoulder."

"So, nothing's broken."

"No, Joshua, nothing's broken."

"Okay," Josh replied grateful for that stroke luck. That was all Joshua needed, to carry his brother-who outweighed him by a good thirty pounds-through the woods. Besides, if either Sam or Dean were hurt Josh would be unable to help if his brother was gravely injured.

Josh glanced around the area, looking for something to pull his brother out of the hole, when he remembered that Bobby had packed a rope in with their supplies. He looked down at his brother and called, "Do you think you can climb out?"

Jeff sighed, sounding a tad overly dramatic in Josh's opinion, and said, "Yeah, Josh, I can totally climb out. I'll just use the slowly falling dirt as hand and foot holes. Maybe I'll fall again, knock myself out, give you yet another reason to ask a stupid question." Every sarcastic word pushed Josh closer and closer toward the idea of just leaving Jeff in the hole. However, instead of sinking to his brother's level, Josh took a deep breath and said, "Listen, smart ass, Bobby packed a rope. I was wondering if you can climb the rope."

There was silence for a few seconds, Josh unable to read Jeff's face, and then his brother said, "I'm sorry. I will try to climb the rope." Apologies from Jefferson were rare, rarer than the Winchesters apologizing to each other, but every single one-all four of them-were always truly sincere. Jeff never toyed around with his apologies.

"I'll get the rope." Josh trekked back to the bag, unzipping the main pocket. He dug through the contents, hitting his knuckle on Bobby's metal first-aid kit. He found the rope at the bottom of the bag, just as a radio crackled nearby and a familiar voice whispered, "_Did you find him_?"

"Josh, was that Bobby?" Jeff asked from below. Josh returned to the hole, spotting Jeff's radio sitting amongst some weeds next to where he had fallen. He dropped the rope at the base of the hole, scooping the radio off the ground.

"Yeah, what about you?"

"_No sign of Johnny's boys, but I keep hearing this yelling. I think I'll check it out."_

"Wait for us," Josh said quickly. Bobby responded with a snort and silence. Josh knew for a fact, after years of being acquainted to Robert Stephen Singer II, that even suggesting the older hunter wait for backup was laughable amongst the hunter population. Like John and Caleb used to and-unfortunately-Jefferson still, Bobby would rather go in a situation alone and save everyone then wait for backup and lose even one. It was the downfall of most hunters, one that Josh feared his own brother would meet.

Speaking of his brother, "Are you going to toss the rope down or am I going to have to grow wings and fly out?"

"It'd make you more useful," Josh replied under his breath and he tossed the rope down to his brother. He tied the other end to a tree, made sure it was secure, and said, "Start climbing."

It didn't take long to realize something was definitely wrong. There was barely a tug on the rope when Joshua heard a hiss of pain and Jefferson say, "I can't."

"What?" Josh questioned racing to the edge of the hole.

"My arm isn't holding my weight," Jeff responded glancing at his hurt appendage. Josh sighed in frustration, racking his brain for a plan B. Then it hit him, like metaphoric bricks that rained down on his head, almost like the rain that was slowly beginning to fall. He had to pull his brother up.

"Shit," he whispered letting his head fall onto his chest. It was the one thing he didn't want to have to do. He looked up when Jeff cleared his throat, his brother looking slightly annoyed that he could be so easily forgotten.

Taking in a deep gulp of air, rolling his shoulders until they popped, hopping his muscles weren't about to get pulled, he said, "Tie the rope around yourself."

"What…? Wait, you…? You're going to…? Oh, Lord help me." Josh glared down at his brother, who merely rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He tied the rope around his waist, hissing every time he moved his injured arm. When Jefferson was secured he called, "Start pulling, Superman."

"_Start pulling Superman_," Josh mocked as he gripped the rope in his hands. Slowly, praying to his shoulders to hold off all complaining until later, the younger Michaels brother began to pull. He stepped backwards with every inch, feeling his brother start to rise.

When Jeff was at least a foot out of the hole, Josh's shoulders were screaming in protest-_so much for praying_. He ignored the pain, pulling harder on the rope. When his brother was two feet closer to the exit, Josh's feet were starting to slide. The rain really wasn't helping, the rope becoming slippery and the slick mud causing him to nearly slip. The only thing he could do was dig his feet into the earth and hope he didn't fall.

Finally, after nearly falling fifteen times and getting some major rope burn, his brother was free. Josh let the rope go, racing to Jefferson's side. He crouched next to his brother, unknotting the rope from his waist. He let him sit there for a few seconds, mostly so they both could get their breath back, and then said, "We've gotta go find Bobby."

"Let's go then," Jeff responded getting to his feet. The rain was beginning to pick up, drenching both brothers to the bone. Josh ran back to the tree, untying the rope from the base, and rolled it up. He headed back to the bag, smacking his brother's hand when he attempted to pick it up, and stashed it back in the pocket.

"What the hell," Jeff snapped rubbing his hand almost unconsciously.

"You can call Bobby," Josh responded smoothly, letting the fact that his brother wasn't exactly in any shape to carry anything slide, and shoved the radio at Jeff. He picked the bag up himself, slung it over his shoulder, and began to retrace his steps to his friend.

Behind him he could hear Jeff say, "Singer, you there?" no answer. Jefferson tried again, "Singer, answer the damn radio." Still nothing.

"He's not answering," Jeff said storing the radio in his pocket.

"Can you run any faster on that ankle?" Josh asked curiously glancing back at his brother.

"Yeah, why," Jeff responded unconvincingly. He sounded winded, all forty-seven of his years catching up to him in one moment.

"Okay," Josh said skeptically. "Try to keep up." and he sped up, hoping to get to Bobby in time.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

The gun was smoking from the shots; the smell of gun powder filled his nostrils. Bobby watched as the big guy clutched his chest, a gurgling sound escaping his lips, before he fell to the side and didn't move again.

A scream filled the air, one that sent a chill down the older hunter's spine. He looked around, spotting Nina racing to her brother's side. Sam scrambled away from them, stopping by Bobby's feet. The older hunter helped him up, noticing the two handprint sized bruises across his throat.

"Where's your brother?" he asked looking around for Dean.

"Over there," Sam responded gruffly nodding toward a tree. He was massaging his throat, his eyes looking anywhere but at the Hortons. Bobby wanted to cross the three feet separating him from Dean, Sam also, but before either one could move Nina was on her feet and pointing her weapon at the older Winchester.

"Put the gun down, now, Mr. Singer," Nina snapped cocking the hammer back on her gun. Bobby recognized the weapon as Dean's, the many times he had seen the kid shoot it. The older hunter also knew it didn't jam, John had taught his boys that a clean gun would less likely get them killed. It would be ironic, having the one weapon Dean had used to kill countless things quite possibly kill him now.

"Bobby put it down," Sam begged in a whisper, his damaged trachea unable to make any other noise. Slowly, Bobby set his gun on the ground, raising his hands. He glanced at Dean, who was stirring but still far from helping them with anything, and said, "Come on, Nina. You can't kill him."

The girl's eyes, at one time just holding an intimidating coldness, were now full on crazy. She reminded Bobby of a desperately cornered animal. She had only one card to play, a card that could mean the life or death of someone innocent-_or as innocent as Dean can be,_ Bobby couldn't help thinking.

"I don't want to kill him," she snapped and grabbed Dean's arm. With some difficulty, she pulled him to his feet, his unfocused green eyes trying to tell his brain what was going on. Pressing the gun to his back, using him as a shield, she said, "He's my ticket out of here."

"Nina," Sam tried to reason but his throat was just too damaged to even attempt the simple action. Instead he glanced at Bobby, who tried again. "Come on. He did nothing to you."

"All hunters are the same," Nina snapped backing away from the other two hunters. She took Dean with her, the older Winchester nearly tripping over his feet. "They are obsessive, simple minded, reckless, death causing people. My mother was the same as every one of them." She turned her gaze to Sam, who was trying to silently communicate with his woozily, unfocused brother, and said, "Why you came back to this life is beyond me."

"What does that mean," Sam asked looking at her. His hand unconsciously touched the spot where he was nearly strangled, the use of his vocal cords hurting his already tender throat.

"You went to college," Nina responded still backing away. Her grip tightened on Dean's arm, the gun pressing deeper into his spine. "You had freedom. You were free to be yourself."

"Things change," Sam whispered.

"Of course they do."

Bobby tried to use her moment of weakness, while talking to Sam, to grab his gun, but a gunshot rang out and he pulled his hand back. Nina was glaring at him, gun held at her side. The firing of the Colt made Dean's eyes focus a bit more. He looked over at Bobby and Sam, his eyes clearly telling them to let her take him.

Before Sam could give him a responding look, another gunshot rang out. Both Bobby and Sam ducked, trying to avoid the bullet. Three more bullets flew over them, one coming dangerously close to Bobby's ear. When the shots ceased, an eerily quiet rang through the woods. Both hunters got to their feet, glancing around. Sam was the first to speak, "She's gone."

"What?" Bobby looked over to where Nina had stood, finding both Nina and Dean gone. "They can't have gone far," the older hunter commented and started walking toward where they disappeared. Problem was there were three possible paths they could have taken.

"Damn it," Sam said stopping next to the older hunter.

"Come on, Dean's heavier than her and hurt. He'll slow her down," Bobby tried to reassure Sam. Instead of achieving that, Sam began to head down the closest path. Before Bobby could follow he heard someone yell his name. He turned, Josh and Jeff coming around the corner.

"Sam," he called causing the younger Winchester to stop and head back to the older hunter. He was unsteady on his feet as he walked, Bobby finally noticing the blood dripping down a gash on his head.

"Where's Dean," Jeff asked stopping a few inches from Bobby and Sam.

"Somewhere that way," Bobby responded nodding behind him. "What the hell happened to you?"

"A hole."

Before Bobby could ask for an explanation he was interrupted by a hoarse voice snapping, "Come on, we're wasting time." Sam tried to walk back down the path he had started trekking, but he barely made it three steps when his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell backwards.

Bobby caught him, setting him down on the ground. The rain washed the blood off his face, watered down red liquid rolling into his hair and onto the ground. Looking up at Josh and Jeff he said, "Stay with him, I'm going to get his brother."

The older hunter started down the path the younger Winchester had intended to take. He heard a set of footsteps behind him. He turned to see Josh quickly catching up to him. "I thought you might need help and this." He handed Bobby the pistol he had been holding, slipping a second in the waistband of his jeans.

"Fine, let's go," the older hunter replied and sped up. He had two prayers running through his head as he headed deeper into the woods. One: that he was heading the right way and two: that Dean was still alive.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Dean couldn't believe Nina was shooting at Bobby and Sam. She was literally firing his gun, the gun that never jammed, at his brother and friend. Thankfully, none of the bullets hit either of them. Unfortunately, the distraction worked enough to help her drag him away. They took the closest path, Dean nearly tripping over his feet in the process. For a girl who probably weighed fifty pounds less than him, she was strong and fast. No sooner did they take off than Bobby and Sam disappeared from view.

"I still don't see what this proves," Dean said feeling blood and water drip down his face as they walked. He was tripping over his own feet, his leg sick of the abuse it was being put through. His head was throbbing with every footstep, his equilibrium still off after slamming it into the tree. He was also sure his side was bleeding again, the double…_no triple_…_or was it double?_ Dean couldn't quite remember the amount of times, but the several collisions with the ground had been enough to get his wound to start bleeding again.

"Shut up," Nina responded digging the gun deeper into his spine. Dean could tell Nina just wanted out, just needed an excuse to not get shot. He was her bargaining chip and pretty soon she wouldn't need him. _Let's see,_ Dean thought racking his sluggish brain. _The clip was half full when I loaded the gun. She shot at me, shot at Bobby, then shot it four more times at Sam and Bobby. That's six, which means…_ She still had one bullet to take him out. _Fantastic, _his thoughts sarcastically tacked on.

"I'm just saying," Dean pressed, the trees swaying back and forth-the wind definitely not the cause. "Taking me doesn't necessarily…" He felt himself slipping, Nina slamming her fist into his leg wound to wake him up. "Ah, what the fuck?"

"Can't have you passing out on me," Nina responded as she pulled him deeper into the woods. The rain was falling harder, small puddles developing in every footprint they left behind. It was only a matter of time before he collapsed for real which meant Nina was running out of time. _Maybe she'll let me pick the way I die._

"I'm not going to kill you," Nina said, Dean unaware that he had spoken out loud.

"What?"

"I'm not going to kill you," Nina repeated stopping next to a tree. She set Dean against it and backed away to lean against a stump. Behind the stump, the current strong enough to take a human downstream without a problem, was a river.

"So… cold-hearted Nina…has a conscience," Dean murmured weakly, leaning his head against a tree. The ground beneath him was beginning to move, the trees were swaying worse than before. He could practically hear his consciousness ticking away.

"Funny, Winchester," Nina said with a shake of her head and a smirk. She crossed her arms, Dean's colt pointing at the ground, and looked off to the left down the path they had come; almost like she was waiting for someone to appear.

"You do realize…Bobby's going to…find us." His side was on fire, again, his leg throbbing in time with each heartbeat. He was dizzy from his head wound, loss of blood, and no food. Blood and rain water were slowly dripping down the back of his neck, mixing in with the sweat that had already accumulated over the past few days. He was cold and warm at the same time, shivers ripping through his body, and the rain wasn't exactly helping. _Nina can sure pick a hostage_, he thought bitterly fighting the nausea that suddenly rolled through him. Silently, he wished he'd just pass out already.

"That's what I want," Nina said catching Dean by surprise. He wasn't quite sure what she was referring to, at first, and then his original comment caught up to him.

Dean glanced over at Nina, surprised when he saw two of them. Both were leaning against the same stump, talking to him. He was pretty sure, around ninety percent sure, that one wasn't real. Problem was he couldn't determine which was real and which was the one his mind was making up. Instead of dwelling on it, his head hurt too much anyway, he concentrated on Nina's words. "You…what?"

"There are three ways this can go down. One: I kill you and get away. Two: I kill you and your friend, Bobby, kills me. Or three: I let your hunter buddy catch up and finish me and let you go.

"Seeing as I choose to not kill you, option three is the only logical choice."

Dean was pretty sure there were several more options she could have taken, but his muddled brain couldn't come up with any. Letting his head loll to the side, getting a better look at Nina, he said, "Why not…kill me? You…had no…problem killing that…Reggie chick."

Nina took a deep breath, blowing her wet hair out of her face, and said, "She was necessary to get a hunter here."

"You did…this…before?" what surprised Dean the most was that it didn't surprise him. Nina probably killed tons of hunters, tons of people, without a second thought. The ground gave another violent jerk, another shiver wrack his body; Dean wasn't sure how much longer he could hold onto consciousness.

"Ethan and I have had a busy few years." Nina's eyes swept across the forest floor, flicking back down the path they had come. Bobby still hadn't appeared like she wanted.

"Why…would you…?"

"The thrill of the hunt, I guess," she replied casually, her right shoulder rising slightly. Dean wished he had a gun in that moment, to end the soulless bitch's life once and for all. However, the next words caught him by surprise and pulled him out of his dark thoughts. "That was until you came along."

"What…makes me…so special?"

"Times up," Nina responded uncrossing her arms. She removed the clip from Dean's colt putting it in her pocket. Tossing the gun at his feet she said, "Thanks for the loan."

"What are…you doing?" his vision was graying, dangerously close to shutting out entirely. His jumbled brain just wouldn't help him put any of the pieces of Nina's puzzling actions together.

Straightening up, glancing one last time down the path, Nina looked down at Dean. She flashed him a look, one he couldn't quite place, and said, "Take care of yourself, Dean." She backed up, skirting the stump, and came to a stop at the edge of the dangerously flowing river. She peeked at the current, a calculating expression on her face. Someone, somewhere close by, was yelling Dean's name. The injured hunter was too tired to really try and figure out who it was.

Footsteps could be heard, another voice calling his name, but Dean was looking at Nina. As fuzzy as she was, he could see the determined look on her face. And that's when it hit him, what she was going to do.

"Wait," he breathed rather having her go to jail than do what she was planning. Only problem, his voice wouldn't work like he wanted. Instead, he watched Nina take a deep breath, yell something that he couldn't quite make out, and fall backwards. The last thing he saw was her body rushing downstream before everything went black.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and drop a comment if you have time. I still don't own them. Bye…**

_**Supernatural**_

When Jeff walked into the room a few days later-three bags full of food in his arms-he was bombarded by the beginning tune to Oprah. His eyebrows rose in curiosity, his eyes flashing across the TV screen and landing on the older Winchester. He was unaware of Jefferson's arrival, watching Oprah with such intent that it was almost like the younger guy was watching his hero. The older hunter had a feeling that if Sam weren't asleep, his snores rolling across the room, Dean wouldn't be watching Oprah at all.

"Searching for a new girlfriend," Jeff asked closing the door and causing Dean to jump. He flipped the television off, tossing the remote onto the bedside table. Almost unconsciously, he rubbed his leg and said, "Been gone a while."

"Sorry, Small Fry, but I had to travel to three different diners before I found your frigging double-bacon cheeseburger."

"Double bacon? I never asked for a double bacon…? Hell, you could have gotten triple…"

"Stop bitching and wake your brother up," Jeff responded setting the food on the table crammed against the wall. He started pulling containers out of the bag, vaguely aware of Dean whipping a pillow at his brother.

"Damn it, Dean," Sam snapped his bed creaking as he jerked awake.

"Where're Singer and my brother?" Jeff asked before the two brothers could begin fighting. After several days of arguing with Josh, mostly over how to treat the Winchesters' injuries, he didn't want to hear anymore.

"Bobby went out to get our car," Dean replied appearing at Jeff's side. He was limping heavily on his right leg, keeping his hand pressed tightly to his side. Jefferson knew what Bobby would say if he were here, but there wasn't much they could actually do if Dean wanted to move around. He was an adult and sitting still never was the older Winchester's way.

"And Josh?"

"Dean whined for about fifteen minutes about never getting the 7Up he wanted…"

"Did not," Dean protested sitting stiffly at the table.

"So, he went out to get it. Seeing as the only gas station in town was 'robbed.'" Jeff could hear the quotey fingers in Sam's voice. "He had to go one town over. He left about a half hour ago."

"You're milking your injuries for all they are worth aren't you, Small Fry?" Jeff could barely conceal the smirk on his face when Dean gave him an '_I can barely walk, let alone drive'_ kind of look. "Oh, don't give me that look. You got your ass off that bed for a double-bacon cheeseburger." He actually laughed out loud when Dean gestured to the burger he had just opened. "I'm sure, if it were Bobby and me, we would have told you to suck it up. Josh is too soft."

"So says the double-bacon cheeseburger guy," Sam mumbled dropping into a chair at the table and pulling his own food toward him.

"Shut up," Jeff muttered turning the last chair around and straddling it. He put the remaining food bags on the floor, opening his own. Outside a rumbled could be heard, the arrival of Bobby.

"Singer's here. If he yells at you two for being out of bed, it was not my idea," Jeff said in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Why do you automatically assume Bobby will blame…" Dean never got to finish his sentence. The door opened, the oldest hunter took one look at the three guys seated around the table, and he said, "Jeff, you too frigging lazy to give 'em their food. I thought I told you to keep 'em in bed."

"Told you," Jeff muttered receiving an eye roll from Dean.

"Told him what," Bobby asked as Josh walked into the room. He was carrying a bag full of soda, his eyebrows raised at the hold-up in the doorway.

"That you are the toughest, most ruthless hunter I have ever seen," Jeff replied flashing Bobby a grin.

"I didn't know you rolled that way, Bobby," Josh commented getting a laugh from everyone but the oldest hunter. He growled and whispered something that sounded vaguely like, "Idgits."

After they settled down, they all began to eat. The room was filled with small talk, mostly banter between Jeff and Dean. It felt good to argue with someone other than his brother for a change. But even though Dean said he was fine and even acted like he was fine, Jefferson knew he wasn't. Sam, who knew Dean better than anyone, knew, too.

Nina had died, or had allegedly died, and Dean couldn't stop it. As much as he hated the former hunter, as much as the older Winchester wished he could have ended her existence as easily as she ended every other person she came across, he never wanted to see her do what she did. Jefferson wasn't there personally, but from what Joshua told him Nina wasn't exactly the most stable when she fell into the water.

She had backed to the edge of the water, her face had been calculating, and then she fell backwards. But before going into the water, she did yell something. Something that Jeff really wished she wouldn't have. _"Nothing gives me more pleasure than to know that I have gotten to you!"_ And even if the rest of them were trying to let Nina and the soiled memories she caused go, Dean just couldn't. And Jefferson was afraid for the kid.

When the food had been consumed, Dean not eating as much as Jeff thought he would, the two Winchesters crashed back on their beds. They both were out moments after taking some pain pills. Bobby had mumbled something about needing a beer and Josh had left to the room next door (the older hunters getting one the night after Dean and Sam came back from the woods). Jeff was collecting the Styrofoam containers, shoving them into the plastic bags they came in. He kept glancing over at Dean, waiting for the normal nightmare to hit. It was always the same, every night since they brought him back from the woods.

He'd start to toss and turn, mumbling unintelligible words. His words would slowly become clearer until he was half shouting, "Wait," and sitting up with an outstretched hand. After that he'd wake up, looking around for something or someone who just wasn't there. Jeff didn't know what the dream was exactly, but he had a shrewd idea.

Once all the containers were collected he headed out letting the door close behind him with an almost silent click. He trekked across the parking lot, swinging the bag back and forth. The dumpster stood at the base of the parking lot, the lid already open; someone obviously using it and forgetting to close the lid.

"You're actually taking the garbage out," a voice said behind him. It sounded amused, almost like the owner reverted to twelve again. Jeff held back a smirk, throwing the bag in the dumpster. He turned to face his brother and said, "No one else was going to."

"It's about time. When you were younger you never did it. Either Mom or I did it. You'd always say that you spent half the time learning about smelly things, why would you want to take one to the curb."

"I can't believe you remember that."

"Dude, it was like twenty years ago."

"And it was good for you to take the trash out," Jeff said with a small smile on his face. Both brothers started toward their room, Bobby's turn to stay with the boys that night. _When Bobby gets back from the bar,_ Jeff thought unlocking the Winchesters' door to check on them. Both were still out cold, still in the same positions he had left them in. He closed and locked the door and quickly followed his brother.

"He's going to be fine," Josh muttered unlocking their door. He allowed his brother to go first, closing the door behind him. Like Sam, who knew how to read Dean, Josh knew how to read Jeff-_a little too well_, _sometimes_. Josh knew Jeff was worried about the oldest Winchester. In retrospect, it didn't even take a rocket scientist to figure out that Jeff was worried about Dean. Very few people worried Jefferson Michaels like Dean and Sam Winchester. Very few.

"I know," Jeff responded settling on the closet bed to the door. It wasn't a gesture to always protect Josh-like Dean always did with Sam. Truth be told, Josh put his foot down at six saying he needed no one to save him. He was a hunter, he'd protect himself. It was mostly because the bed was closest and Jeff was tired. He lied back, staring at the aqua ceiling, wondering where he learned to distinguish the type of green the ceiling was.

"And if he isn't, he's Sam's problem…" it was meant to be a joke; Jeff knew it was, but it still struck a chord. Was it fair to the youngest Winchester, leaving his emotionally wreck of a brother in his hands. Granted, it wouldn't be the first time, but it's got to be tiring to always deal with your brother's problems before dealing with your own.

"You do realize Dean deals with Sam's problems more than his own." Jeff sat up, unaware that he had spoken at all, to see Josh giving his brother a '_you-know-don't-challenge-me'_ look.

"Can we talk about something else? What about how you're going to get home?"

"I was wondering…" Josh started averting his eyes.

"No can do, little bro," Jeff responded lying back again. "I'm not heading in the direction of your place. I've got a huge hunt coming up."

"A huge hunt? Hunting what, a new girl?"

"A coven of witches," Jeff snapped sitting up again to glare at his brother.

"Close enough," Josh muttered. "Unless they're dude witches… And if they are, I gotta tell you bro…"

"Don't finish that sentence," Jeff said slowly, a shake of his head.

"Just saying," Josh said as he headed toward his bag. He unzipped it, pulling out a pair of sweats. "Dude witches are out there."

"I'm going to sleep," Jeff grumbled kicking his boots off and flicking the light off.

"Oh, Jeffy Poo…"

"Sleeping."

Josh chuckled but kept quiet. Jeff listened to his brother start to get ready for bed, turning onto his right side. His left arm still hurt if he laid on it or picked anything heavy up or used it in almost any way. But there was no point in complaining about it, Sam and Dean came first for the time being. They were top priority.

Josh had gotten into the other bed, setting the alarm clock to go off in a few hours. Jeff knew Bobby would be back in no time, he rarely drank more than one beer alone, but Josh was overly cautious. He had to check on the boys at all times, make sure they were alright. He was like an annoying parent, worse than Bobby or John. Almost worse than Jim; _no one can be worse than Jim had been_.

"Male witches," was the last thing Jeff heard-making a mental note to punch Josh in the face in the morning-before he drifted off to sleep.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Dean was running through the woods, rain slamming onto his head, unaware of where he was going. As much as he didn't know why or where he was running, his head still told him to speed up. He tried, he really did, but it felt like he was sloshing through a bowl of molasses. Finally, he broke through a few branches, a stick slicing his cheek, to see Nina standing by the edge of the river. She had a calculating look on her face, glancing back at the water. She looked back at him, a small smile on her face, and said, "You were the one I never killed." Then she fell backwards.

"Wait," Dean called sitting up. His hand was outstretched, reaching for no one. It had been a week and a half since Nina's disappearance. He and Sam had been staying at Bobby's for the past three days. They just couldn't stay in the motel anymore, not after the police started looking for the 'robbers' who killed the gas station clerk. Even if the Winchesters didn't do it, their car still might have been spotted and they didn't need another murder rap on their hands.

After a week and a half, most of which was spent trying to maneuver on his damn leg, Dean had thought the nightmare would lift. It's not like he was a fan of Nina. On the contrary, he hated her guts. But her words kept circling his head, the real ones and the dream ones. _"Nothing gives me more pleasure than to know that I have gotten to you!" _and _"You were the one I never killed."_ He just wished he knew what they meant.

A sudden blast of music made him jump. He looked around for the noise, taking a moment to realize it was his phone. He picked it up, off Bobby's desk, and read the caller ID. _Unknown? What? _He flipped his phone open and said, "Hello?"

"Dean, it's me." The voice was so familiar, so spine chillingly familiar. She was alive, she didn't die. _How the hell is that possibly._

"How are you…?"

"Alive? Doesn't matter." She had a slight amused tone to her voice, something she didn't have over a week ago. It was almost like she was either in denial of Ethan's death or suppressing her emotions.

"You fell in the water."

"I know," she replied. "Just calling to tell you I'm alive. And…" she was silent for a moment, almost like she was lost in thought. Finally, she sighed and said, "If you would have went the other way, that night I left you in the woods, you would have made it to the highway in about ten minutes. Bye Dean Winchester." And she was gone, the dial tone the only thing Dean heard.

He snapped his phone shut, at a lost to what to say. He glanced over at his brother, who was crashed out on the couch, and could almost picture Sam's face when he told him. With a sigh of frustration, wondering when and where they would run into Nina again, he threw his phone back on Bobby's desk and laid back.

As much as she pissed him off, as much as she deserved to die for every life she'd ever taken, Dean had to admit that she had a certain style about her. That she knew what she was doing. That it wasn't the last he'd ever hear of Nina Horton. And with that thought in mind, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep: _the first time in a long time._

_END…_


End file.
